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A New Novel by the Author op 

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A CROOKED PATH. 


BY 


MRS. ALEXANDER. 



c 


V,v 


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GEORGE MUNRO, PUBLISHER, 


17 to 27 Vandewater Street. 


MBS. ALEXANDER’S WORKS 


CONTAINED IN THE SEASIDE LIBRARY (POCKET EDITION).* 


NO. 

5 The Admiral’s Ward. 

17 The Wooing O’t. 

62 The Executor. 

189 Valerie’s Fate. 

229 Maid, Wife, or Widow? 

236 Which Shall it Be? 

339 Mrs. Vereker’s Courier Maid 
490 A. Second Life. 

564 At Bay. 

794 Beaton’s Bargain. 

797 Look Before You Leap. 

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806 Her Dearest Foe. 2d half. 

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815 Ralph Wilton’s Weird. 

900 By Woman’s Wit. 

997 Forging the Fetters, and 
The Australian Aunt. 
1054 Mona’s Choice. 

1057 A Life Interest. 

1189 A Crooked Path. 




( 


A CROOKED PATH. 


CHAPTEB I. 

“gathering clouds.” 

The London season had not yet reached its height, some 
years ago, before the arch admitting to Constitution Hill had 
been swept back to make room for the huge, ever-increasing 
stream of traffic, or the plebeian 'bus had been permitted to 
penetrate the precincts of Hamilton Place. It was the fore- 
noon of a splendid day, one of the earliest of June, and at that 
hour the road- way between the entrance to Hyde Park and the 
gate then surmounted by the statue of the Duke of Welling- 
ton on his drooping steed was comparatively free, when two 
gentlemen coming from opposite directions recognized each 
other, and paused at the gate of Apsley House — the elder, a 
stout, florid man of military aspect, middle age, and average 
Height, with large gray mustache and small, slightly blood- 
shot eyes; the younger, who was tall and bony, might have 
been- thirty, or even forty, so grave and sedate was liis bear- 
ing, although his erect carriage, elastic step, and clear, keen, 
dark eyes suggested earlier manhood. 

Both had the indescribable well-groomed, freshly bathed 
look peculiar to Englishmen of the “ upper ten.” 

“Ha! Errington! I didn't know you were in town. I 
thought you were cruising somewhere with Melford, or rusti- 
cating at Garston Ilall. I think your father expected you 
about this time.'' 

“ I don’t think so. 1 was summoned by telegraph from 
Paris. My father was seized with paralysis last week. He 
had just come up to town, and for a few days was dangerously 
ill, but is now slowly recovering.” 

“ Very sorry to hear it. A man of his stamp would have 
been of immense value to the country. He had begun to take 
a very leading part in local matters. 1 trust he will come 
round.” 

“ 1 fear he will never be the same again. 1 doubt if he will 
be able to direct his own affairs as he used. '' 


6 


A CROOKED PATH. 


“ That’s bad. You are not in the business,, I believe?” 

“No; I never took any part in it. I almost regret I did 
not. It would, I imagine, be a relief to my father, now that 
his mind is less clear, to know that I was at the helm. But 
we have a capital man as manager, quite devoted to the house. 
I shall get my father down to the country as soon as I can, 
and I trust he’ll come round.” 

“ No doubt he will. He was wonderfully hale and strong 
for his years. ” 

“ Ah! how d’ye do, Bertie?” interrupted the first speaker, 
holding out his hand to a young man who came up from Hyde 
Park and seemed about to pass with a smile and a nod. “ Who 
would have thought of meeting you in these godless regions? 
I hear you are busy ‘ slumming ’ from morning till night. ” 

“ Well, colonel,” returned Bertie — a slight, fair, boyish- 
looking man — “ 1 am so far false to my pew vocation as to have 
lost some irrevocable moments looking at the horses and horse- 
women in the Bow.” 

“ Aha! the old leaven, my dear boy! You are on the brink 
of perdition. Don’t you know Bertie Payne?” he continued, 
to his newly met friend. 66 He was one of my subs before he 
renounced, the devil and all his works. He was with us at 
Barrackpore when you were in India. ” 

“I do not think we have met,” the other was beginning, 
when a young lady — toward whom the colonel had already cast 
some sharp, admiring glances as she stood on the curb-stone 
holding a hand of the smaller of two little boys in smart sailor 
suits — uttered a cry of dismay. The elder child had rushed 
into the road, as if to stop a passing omnibus, not seeing that 
a hansom was coming up at speed. 

The young man called Bertie dashed forward, and barely 
succeeded in snatching the child from under the wheel. A 
scramble of horses’ feet, an imprecation or two shouted by the 
irritated driver, a noisy declaration from the “ fare ” that he 
should lose his train, and the scuffle was over. 

The little man, held firmly by the shoulder, was marched 
back to his young guardian. 

“ Thank you! oh, thank you a thousand times! You have 
saved his life!” she exclaimed, fervently, in unsteady tones. 
Then to the child: “How could you break your promise to 
stay by me, Cecil? You would have been killed but for this 
gentleman!” 

“I wanted to catch the 6 omnibus ’ for you, auntie!” he 
cried, with an irrepressible sob, though he gallantly tried to 
hold back his tears. 




A CROOKED PATH. 


44 Hope the little fellow is none the worse of his fright/" 
said the colonel, advancing and raising his hat. 44 Can I be 
of any nse? can 1 call a cab?"" 

44 No, thank you; I will take an omnibus and get home as 
soon as 1 can. Cecil will soon forget his fright, I fear — "" 

64 Sooner than you will,"" remarked Bertie. 44 There is a 
Royal Oak omnibus. Will that do?"" 

44 Yes, thank you."" 

44 Come along, then, my young man; I will not let you go."" 

Bertie put the trio into the vehicle, and the lookers-on saw 
that he shook hands with 44 auntie "" as the conductor jumped 
on his perch and they rolled on. 

44 Gad! there"s a chance for you!"" cried the colonel as 
Bertie joined him. 44 An uncommon fine girl, by George! 
What a coloring! and a splendid pair of black eyes!"" 

44 1 suspect extreme fright did a good deal for both, poor 
girl. Her eyes are brown, not black. "" 

44 Brown! Nonsense! Didn"t you think they were black?"" 

44 1 did not observe them,"" returned the grave personage he 
addressed, indifferently. 44 The boy had a narrow escape. 1 
must say good-morning,"" he added. 

44 Stop a bit,"" cried the colonel. 44 1 must see you again 
before you leave town. Dine with me to-morrow at the J unior. 
And, Bertie — "" 

44 Thanks, no, I am engaged."" He said good-bye and 
walked on. 

44 Queer fellow that,"" said the colonel, looking after him. 
44 He got into some money troubles in India, left the army, 
and got converted. Now he is not exactly a Salvation soldier, 
but something of the kind. HeTl be at you one of these days 
for a subscription to convert the crossing-sweepers or some 
such undertaking. But you"ll dine with me to-morrow. I"ll 
tell you all the Clayshire gossip. "" 

44 Thank you, 1 shall be very happy."" 

44 Then good-bye for the present. I am engaged to lunch 
to meet one of the prettiest little widows you ever saw in your 
life, but she has no cash. Here, hansom,"" calling to the 
driver of a cab which was passing slowly. 44 1 am a little 
late."" He jumped in and drove off. 

His friend, with a slight, grave smile, continued his walk to 
the Alexandra Hotel, the portals of which received him. 

Meantime the hero of the cab incident sat very demurely by 
his young aunt as the omnibus rolled slowly up Park Lane, 
occasionally stealing inquisitive glances at her face. 


8 


A CKOOKHD PATH. 


44 You have been a very naughty boy, Cecil!” she exclaimed, 
as her eyes met his. 4 6 How could 1 have gone home to mam- 
ma if I had been obliged to leave you behind?” 

44 But you needn't, you know; you could have tied me up 
in a bundle and taken me back. Mamma would have known 
it wasn't your fault. ” 

44 I am not so sure of that; and you have made poor Charlie 
cry '' — drawing the younger boy to her side. 

46 Charlie is just a baby,” contemptuously. 

44 He is a better boy than you are.” Silence. 

44 Auntie, do you think the gentleman who pulled me back 
was the old gentleman's son?” 

44 No, I do not think he was.” 

44 Why don't you, auntie?” 

44 1 can hardly say why. ” 

44 1 have seen that gentleman — the old gentleman — in Ken- 
sington Gardens,” said little Charlie, nestling up to his aunt. 
44 He spoke to mammy the day she took me to feed the ducks.” 

44 1 think that is only a fancy, dear.” 

44 No; I am quite sure.” 

44 Oh, you are always fancying things; you are a silly,” 
cried Cecil, now quite recovered, and turning to kneel upon 
the seat that he might look out, thereby rubbing his feet on 
the very best 44 afternoon” dress of a severely respectable 
female, whose rubicund face expressed 44 drat the t boy!” as 
strongly as a face could. } 

The rest of the journey was accomplished after the usual 
style of such travels when the aunt and nephews went out to- 
gether. Cecil was constantly rebuked and made to sit dowfc* 
and as constantly resumed his favorite position; so that ne 
ultimately reached home with beautifully clean shoes, having 
wiped 44 the dust off his feet ” effectually on the garments of 
his fellow-passengers, while his little brother nestled to his 
auntie's side and gazed observantly on his fellow-travelers, 
arriving at curious conclusions respecting them, to be after- 
ward set forth to the amusement of his hearers. 

Leaving the omnibus at the Royal Oak, the trio diverged to 
one of the streets between that well-known establishment and 
the Bayswater Road — a street which had still a few trees and 
small semi-detached villas, with front gardens left at one end, 
the relics of a past when Penrhyn Place was 44 quite the coun- 
try;” while at the other, bricks, mortar, scaffolding, and a 
deeply rutted road-way indicated the commencement of man- 
sions which would soon swallow up their humbler predecessors. 

At one of these villas, the garden of which was tolerably 


A CROOKED PATH. 


0 


neat, the little boys and their aunt stopped, and were admitted 
by a smart but not overclean girl, who welcomed the children 
with a cheerful, “ Well, Master Cecil, you are just in nice 
time for dinner! Come, get your things off; your gran’ma 
lias a treat for you. ” 

“ Has she? Oh, what is it? Do tell, Lottie?” 

“ Where is my mother?” asked the young lady. 

“In the study, miss. Dinner will be ready in ten min- 
utes. ” 

“ Make the young gentlemen wash their hands, then,” she 
returned, and went along the narrow passage, dignified with 
the name of hall, to a small — a very small — apartment at the 
back, lighted by a glass door ojiening into the garden. It was 
tightly packed with book-shelves, a couple of chairs, a waste- 
paper basket, a small writing-table, and a large lady. Writ- 
ing materials, books, and several manuscripts in a curly con- 
dition, as if just taken out of wrappers, were thickly strewn 
on the table, and the lady was looking at them with an anx- 
ious expression, one hand, which had dropped at her side, 
holding a letter addressed, “ Mrs. Liddell, Villa Rosa, Pen- 
rhyn Road.” 

“ Come back already, Katherine?” she said, as her daugh- 
tei entered. 

“ Already, mother dear?” with a smile. “ Why, we have 
been nearly three hours away, and Cecil nearly managed to 
kill himself.” 

r “Not quite, I hope,” absently. “ Then it is near dinner- 
time.” 

“ Yes, it is dinner-time. Have you a headache, mother? 
you look so pale!” coming round and kissing her tenderly. 

“ No — that is, yes; but I must go and put on my black 
silk.” 

“ Don't mind, dear, if you are tired; your morning-gown 
will do very well, as we are alone.” 

“ No, no; I must honor Cecil's birthday with my best dress. 
These trifles arc important.” 

“1 suppose so,” returned her daughter, looking after her 
gravely as she left the room. 

Mrs. Liddell was tall, and the lines of her figure considera- 
bly enlarged. Yet she had not quite lost the grace for which 
she was once remarkable. Her light-brown hair had a pale 
look from the increasing admixture of gray, and her blue eyes 
seemed faded by much use. It was a kind, thoughtful, worn 
face from which they looked, yet it could still smile brightly. 

“ She looks very, very tired,” thought her daughter. “ I 


10 


A CROOKED PATH. 


must make her lie down if I can; it is so hard to make her 
rest!” She too looked uneasily at the mass of writing on the 
table, and then went away to remove her out-door attire. 

The birthday dinner gave great satisfaction. It was crowned 
by a plum-pudding, terrible as such a compound must always 
be in June; but it was a favorite 44 goody ” with the young 
hero of the day. Grandmamma made herself as agreeable as 
though she were one of a party of wits, and drank her grand- 
son’s health in a bottle of choice gooseberry, proposing it in a 
fc4 neat and appropriate ” speech, which gave rise to much up- 
roarious mirth and delight. At last the feast was over; the 
children retired to amuse themselves with a horse and a wheel- 
barrow — some of the birthday gifts — in the back garden (a 
wilderness resigned to their ravages), and Mrs. Liddell and 
her daughter were left alone. 

44 Now, mother, do come and lie down on the sofa in the 
drawing-room. I see you are out of sorts. You hardly tasted 
food, and you are dreadfully tired; come and rest. I will 
read y-on to sleep. ” 

Jf'No, Kate; there can be no rest for me, my darling,” re- 
turned her mother, rising, and beginning to put the plates and 
glasses together with a nervous movement. 44 I am out of 
sorts, for I have had a great disappointment. 6 The Family 
Friend ’ has refused my three-volume novel, and I really have 
not the heart to try it anywhere else after such repeated rejec- 
tions. At the same time Skinner & Palm write to say they 
can not use my short story, 4 On the Rack/ for five or six 
months, as they have such a quantity of already accepted 
manuscripts. ” 

44 How provoking!” cried Katherine. 44 But come away; 
the drawing-room is cooler; let us go there and talk things 
over. ” 

Mrs. Liddell accepted the suggestion, and sunk into an arm- 
chair, while her daughter let down the blinds, and then placed 
herself on a low ottoman opposite her. 

There was a short silence; then Mrs. Liddell sighed and be- 
gan: 44 1 counted so much on that short story for ready money ! 
Skinner always pays directly he has published. Now I do not 
know what to do. If I take it back I may fail to dispose of 
it, yet I can not wait. But the novel — that is the worst disap- 
pointment of all. 1 suppose it was foolish, but 1 felt sure 
about that.” 

44 Of course you did,” cried Katherine, eagerly. 44 It is an 
excellent story.” 

44 It is not worse than many Santley brings out,” resumed 




A CROOKED PATH. 11 

Mrs. Liddell; ‘‘but one is no judge of one's own work. It 
was with reluctance I offered it to ‘ The Family Friend/ and 
you see — " her voice faltered, and she stopped abruptly. 

Katherine knew the tears were in her eyes and swelling her 
heart. She restrained the impulse to throw her arms round 
her; she feared to agitate her mother; rather she would help 
her self-control. 

“ Well, dear, I am no great judge, but 1 am quite sure that 
such a story as yours must succeed sooner or later. So we will 
be patient . 99 

“Ah! but, Katie, the landlord and the butcher will not 
wait, and, my child, 1 have only about five pounds. 1 made 
too sure of success, for I did so well last year. Then Madame 
de Corset will soon be sending in her bill for that famous dress 
of Adi/s, and she will want the money she lent me." 

“ Then Madame de Corset must wait/' said Katherine, 
firmly. “ Ada is really your debtor. Where could she live at 
so small a cost as with you? Where could she be so free to 
run about without a thought for the children? Wliat has be- 
come of her? Couldn't she stay with Cecil on his birthday?" 

“ She is gone to luncheon with the Burnetts. It is as well 
to keep up with them; their influence might be useful to the 
boys hereafter; but I do wish I could pay her." 

“ I wish you could, for it would make you happier; but she 
really owes you ten pounds and more." 

“What shall I do about that novel? If I could get two 
hundred — even one hundred — pounds for it, I should do well. 
1 began to hope I might make both ends meet with my pen. 
Oh, Katie dear, I am ashamed of myself, but for the first time 
in my life I feel beaten. I feel as if I could not come up to 
time again. It has been such a long, weary battle!" She 
pressed her handkerchief to her eyes. 

“I wish 1 could give you rest % darling mother!" said 
Katherine, taking her hand and fondling it. “I fear 1 have 
been too useless — too thoughtless." 

“ You have done all you could, my child; one can not ex- 
pect much from nineteen. But 1 wish — I wish I could think 
of any means of deliverance from my present difficulty. A 
small sum would suffice. Where to find it is the question. I 
counted too much on those unlucky manuscripts, and now I 
do not know where to turn; I see a vista of debt. " A sudden 
fit of coughing interrupted her. 

“ You have taken cold, mother," cried Katherine. “ I 
heard you coughing this morning. 1 was sure you would 


12 


A CROOKED PATH. 


suffer for sitting near the open window in the study last 
night. ” 

“It was so hot!” murmured Mrs. Liddell, lying back ex- 
hausted. 

“ Yes, but it was also frightfully damp. Tell me, mother, 
is there anything we can sell?— anything — ” 

Mrs. Liddell interrupted her. “ Nothing, dear. The few 
jewels I had preserved went when I was trying to furnish this 
house. I fancied we should do well in a house of our own, 
and I was so anxious to make a home for my poor boy’s 
widow!” 

“ When do you expect any more money?” 

“Not for nearly two months, and then another quarter’s 
rent will be due.” 

“Mother,” said Katherine, after a moment’s silence, 
“ would not my father’s brother, of whom I have heard you 
speak, help you? It is dreadful to ask, but he is so near a 
kinsman, and childless. ” 

“ It is useless to think of it. He and your father quarreled 
about money, and he is implacable. His only child, a son, 
opposed him, and he drove him away. Poor fellow! he was 
killed in Australia.” 

“ Why have hard-hearted wretches heaps of money, while 
kind, generous souls like you never have a farthing?” 

“ That is a mystery of long standing,” said Mrs. Liddell, 
with a faint smile. “Katie, I can not think or talk any 
more. I will go and lie down in my own room. There 
neither Ada nor the children can disturb me. Oh, my dar- 
ling, how can I ever die in peace if 1 leave you to do battle 
with the bitter, bitter world unprovided for?” Her voice 
quivered, and the hand she laid on her daughter’s trembled. 

“ Do not fear for me, mother. I am tougher and more 
selfish than you are. It is time I worked for you. How fev- 
erish you are! Come up to your own room. You will see 
things differently when you have had a little sleep. If the 
worst comes, 1 will tell Ada that we must give up the house 
and go back to lodgings. We never had difficulties before we 
came here.” 

“ No, for we never had debts. Now 1 have, and I have this 
house for nearly three years longer. It is not so easy to shake 
off engagements as you would a cloak that had grown too 
heavy.” 

So saying, Mrs. Liddell rose and ascended to the room she 
shared with her daughter, whom she allowed to take off her 
dress and put on her wrapper, to arrange her pillows, to bathe 


A CKOOKED PATH. 


13 


her brow in eau-de-Cologne and water, and soothe her with 
those loving touches, those tender cares, that the heart alone 
can prompt, till in spite of. the cloud and thick darkness that 
hid her future, Mrs. Liddell was calmed by the delicious sense 
of her daughter's love and sympathy. 

“ I will make a list of editors," said Katherine — “ I mean 
those whom you have not tried — and go round to them my- 
self. Perhaps 1 may bring you luck." 

“ Yes; your young life is more likely to have fortune on its 
side; the fickle jade has forsaken me." 

Katherine made no reply beyond a gentle kiss. She sat 
silently by her mother's side, till feeling the hand that held 
hers relax its hold, she slowly and softly withdrew her own, 
comforted to perceive that balmy sleep had stolen upon the 
weary woman. 

Still she sat there thinking with all the force of her young 
brain, partly remembering, partly anticipating. 

Of her father she had scarce any knowledge. She was but 
four years old when he died, and her only brother was nearly 
fourteen. The eldest and youngest of Mrs. Liddell's children 
were the survivors of several. 

Katherine's memory of her childish days presented the dim 
picture of a quaint foreign town; of blue skies, bright sun- 
shine, and abundant vegetation; of large rooms and a smiling 
black-eyed attendant#™ a peculiar head-dress; of some one 
lying back in a large chair, near whom she must never make a 
noise. Then came a change; mother always in black, with a 
white cap, and often weeping, and of colder winters, snow and 
skating — a happy time, for she was always with mother both 
in lesson and play-time, while Fred used to go away early to 
school. Next, clear and distinct, was the recollection of her 
first visit to London, and from this time she was the companion 
and confidante of her mother. They were poor — at least every 
outlay had to be carefully considered; but Katie never knew 
the want of money. Then came the excitement and prepara- 
tion attending Fred's departure for India, the mixture of sor- 
row and satisfaction with which her mother parted from him, 
of how bitterly she had cried herself; for though somewhat 
tyrannical, Fred had been always kind and generous. 

How well she remembered the day he had left them never 
to return — how her mother had clasped her to her heart and 
exclaimed: “ You must be all in all tome now, Katie. I 
have done but little for you yet, dear, Frtd needed so much." 

A spell of happy, busy life in Germany followed, enlivened 
by long letters from the young Indian officer, whose career 


14 


A CROOKED PATH. 


seemed full of promise. But when Katherine was little more 
than thirteen sorrow fell upon them. Fred's letters had be- 
come irregular; then came a confession of weakness and debt, 
crowned by the supreme folly of marriage, concluding with a 
prayer for help. 

Mrs. Liddell was cruelly disappointed. She had hoped and 
expected much from her boy. She believed he was doing so 
well! She told all to Katie, who heartily agreed with her that 
Fred must be helped. Some of their slender capital was sold 
out and sent to him, while mother and daughter cheerfully 
accepted the loss of many trifling indulgences, drawing the 
narrow limits of their expenditure closer still, content and 
free from debt, though as time went on Katherine cast many a 
longing glance at the world of social en joyment in which their 
poverty forbade her to triumph. 

Mrs. Liddell had always loved literature, and her husband 
had been an accomplished though a reckless and self-indulgent 
man. She had wandered a good deal with him, and seen a 
great variety of people and places. It occurred to her to try 
her. pen as a means of adding to her income, and after some 
failures she succeeded with one or two of the smaller weekly 
periodicals. This induced her to return to London, hoping to 
do better in that great center of work. Here the tidings of 
her son's death overwhelmed her. Next came an imploring 
letter from the young widow, who had.no near relatives, pray- 
ing to be allowed to live with her and Katherine — sharing ex- 
penses — as the pension to which an officer's widow and orphans 
were entitled insured her a small provision. 

So Mrs. Liddell again roused herself, and managed to fur- 
nish very scantily the little home where Katherine sat think- 
ing. But the addition to their income was but meager com- 
pared to the expenses which followed in the train of Mrs. 
Frederic Liddell and her two ‘ ‘ little Indian boys. " 

All the efforts of the practical mother and daughter did not 
suffice to keep within the limits they dreaded to overpass. 
Mrs. Liddell's pen became more than ever essential to the 
maintenance of the household, while the younger widow con- 
sidered herself a martyr to the most sordid, the most unneces- 
sary stinginess. 

A tapping at the door and suppressed childish laughter 
called Katherine from her thoughts. She rose and opened 
the door quickly and softly. 

“ Hush, Cecil! l?e quiet, Charlie! poor grannie is asleep. 
Come with me down-stairs; I will read to you if you like." 

“ Oh, yes, do," said Charlie. 


A (HOOKED PATH. 


15 


44 I don't care for reading/' cried Cecil. “ Can't you play 
bears?" 

44 It makes too much noise. I will play it to-morrow if 
grandmamma is better. Shall I tell you a story?" 

44 No/' said Cecil; 44 I will tell you one." 

fc4 Very well. I sha]^ be delighted to hear it." 

44 I would rather have you read, auntie," said the little one. 

44 Never mind, Charlie; I will read to you after." 

44 Shall we sit in the garden? We have made it quite clean 
and tidy." 

44 No, dear; grannie would hear us there. Come into the 
dining-room. " 

Established there, the boys one on each side of her, Kather- 
ine listened to the young story-teller, who began fluently: 
" There were once two little boys called Jimmie and Frank. 
Frank was the biggest; he was very strong and very coura- 
geous; and he learned his lessons very well when he liked, but 
he did not always like. The two little boys had an aunt; she 
was nice and pleasant sometimes, but more times she was 
cross and disagreeable, and she spoiled Jimmie a great deal. 
One day they went out to walk a long way, and saw lots of 
people riding, and Jimmie grew tired, and so did Frank, but 
Frank would not complain, and their aunt was so unkind that 
she would not call a hansom; so when they came to a great 
street Frank thought he would catch an omnibus, and he ran 
out quick — quick. He would have caught it, but his aunt 
was so silly and such a coward that she sent a man after him, 
who nearly dragged him under the feet of a horse that was 
coming up, and they would both have been killed if Frank 
had not called out to the cabman to stop." 

44 Oh, Cecil, that is you and 1! What a story! Auntie is 
not unkind, and you did not call out," cried Charlie. 

Katherine could not help laughing at the little monkey’s 
version of the incident. 

“ Cecil, Cecil, you must learn to tell the truth — " she was 
beginning, when the door was opened/ and a small, slight lady 
in black silk, with a profusion of delicate gray ribbons, jet 
trimming, and foamy white tulle ruching, stood in the door- 
way. She was very fair, with light eyes, a soft pink color, and 
pale golden-brown hair — altogether daintily pretty. 

“Oh, mammy! mammy! where have you been all my 
birthday?" cried the elder boy, rushing to her. 

“ My own precious darling, do not put your dear dirty little 
paws on my dress!" she exclaimed, in alarm. 4 4 1 was obliged 
to go, my boy; but I have brought you a bag of sweets; it is 


16 


A CROOKED PATH. 


in the hall. Dear me! how stuffy this room is! Mrs. Bur- 
nett's house is so cool and fresh! It looks into a charming 
garden at the back; and oh, how delightful it must be to be 
rich!" She had advanced into the room as she spoke, and be- 
gan to untie and smooth out her bonnet strings. 

“ It must indeed," returned Katherine, with a deep sigh. 

“ 1 will go and put on an old dress; this one is too pretty to 
spoil, and the house is so dust}^. Do you think it becoming, 
Katherine?" 

“Yes, very" — with an indulgent smile. “You ought 
always to wear half-mourning; it suits you admirably. " 

“ I think it does; but I must put it off some day, you know. 
Cecil dear, go and ask cook to make me a cup 1 of tea. 1 will 
have it up in my room. Charlie, don’t cuddle up against your 
aunt in that way; it makes her too hot, and you will grow 
crooked." Charlie jumped down from his chair and held up 
his face. 

“ There, dear," giving a hasty kiss. “ Don’t worry." 

“Mammy," said Cecil, with much solemnity, “ 1 was near- 
Jy^killed to-day." 

“Nonsense, dear! This is one of your wonderful inven- 
tions. What does he mean, Katherine?" 

“ He might have been. . He darted from me at Hyde Park 
Corner, intending to catch an omnibus, and would have been 
run over if a gentleman had not snatched him from under the 
horses ’.feet." 

“ My precious boy!" laying her hand on his head, but keep- 
ing him at a distance. “How wrong of you, Katherine, to 
let his hand go!" 

“ I did not let it go; I was not holding it," returned Kather- 
ine, dryly. 

“At Hyde Park Corner?" pursued Mrs. Frederic Liddell, 
eagerly. “Was the gentleman soldierly and stout, with a gray 
mustache?" 

“ No. He was young and slight and clean-shaved." 

“ That is curious; for Colonel Ormonde was saying at 
luncheon to-day that he had saved, or helped to save, such a 
pretty little boy from being run over. I don’t exactly remem- 
ber what he said. # I was listening to Mrs. De Vere Hopkins, 
and Mrs. Burnett’s boy was making a noise. Colonel Ormonde 
said he was just like a little fellow he had seen nearly run over 
that morning. I am sure Tom Burnett is not half as hand- 
some as my Cecil." 

“ I should not have been run over if auntie had left me 
alone. " 


A CROOKED PATH. 


17 


“ Go and get mother's tea, and you, Charlie, fetch her some 
nice bread and butter/' said Katherine, who, though six or 
seven years her sister-in-law's junior, looked at first sight 
older. “ There was an elderly gentleman such as you de- 
scribe talking with the young man who rescued Cecil, and 
he was very polite and interested in Cecil, who broke away 
from me, though he had promised to stay by my side. " 

4 4 Promised/' repeated Mrs. Frederic, lightly, and carefully 
dusting her bonnet with her handkerchief. “ What can you 
expect from a child's promise? But poor Cecil rarely does 
right in your eyes." 

“ Nonsense, Ada." 

“ Not at all. I am very observant. But tell me, did 
Colonel Ormonde take much notice of Cecil?" 

“1 do not know. I was too much frightened to see any- 
thing but the dear child himself." 

Mrs. Frederic did not reply for a moment; she seemed to be 
thinking deeply. 4 c Where did you get those flowers — those 
you bought on Saturday for sixpence?" 

“Oh! at the little florist's in Queen's Road. It was late in 
the evening, you know, or they would not have been so 
cheap." 

“ I should like some to-morrow to make the drawing-room 
look pretty, if possible, for Colonel Ormonde said he would 
call. He wishes to see some of my Otocammed photographs. 
Heigho! it is a miserable place to receive any one in." 

“ Well, you see, it must do." 

“Really, Katherine, you are very unsympathetic. -If you 
have a fault, dear, it is selfishness. You don't mind my say- 
ing so?" „ 

“ Oh, not at all. I am thankful for the c if.' " 

“ Where is your mother?" 

“ Lying down. She is tired, and has a horrid headache." 

“ I'm sure I don't wonder at it, toiling from morning till 
night for those* wretched papers. 1 was telling Mrs. Burnett 
to-day that my mother-in-law was an authoress, but when I 
mentioned that she wrote for ‘ The Family Friend ' and ‘ The 
Cheerful Visitor/ Lady Everton, who writes in ‘ The Court 
Journal ' and various grand things of that kind, said they were 
quite low publications, and never got higher than the servants' 
hall." 

“ You need not have gone into particulars, Ada. Whether 
my mother writes well or ill, the pressure on her is too great 
to allow of her picking or choosing; she must catch at the 
quickest market." 


18 


A CROOKED PATH. 


“ Pm sure it is a great pity. That is the reason I stay on 
here, and let you teach Cis and Charlie, though Colonel Or- 
monde says the sooner boys are out of a woman's hands the 
better.” 

“ If Colonel Ormonde is the old man I saw this morning, 
he looks more capable of judging a dinner than what is the 
best training for youth. ** 

“ Old!” screamed the pretty widow. “ He is not old; he 
is only mature. He is very well off, too. He has a place in 
the country. And as to mentioning those papers, I know 
nothing of such things. 6 The Nineteenth Century/ or 6 Bow 
Bells/ or ‘ The Family Friend/ they are all the same to me. 
Only I am sure such a nice lady-like woman as Mrs. Liddell 
should not write for the servants* hall. She must have been 
so handsome, too! Fred, poor fellow, was her image. You 
will never be so good-looking, Kate.** 

“No, I dou't suppose I shall/* returned Katherine, with 
much equanimity. 

“ Are there any letters for me?** asked Mrs.. Frederic, look- 
ing round, as she lifted her bonnet from the table. 

“ Here are two.** 

“ Ah! this is from Harry Vigors. I suppose he is coming 
home. And oh! this is Madame de Corset* s bill ** — putting 
down her bonnet and opening it. “ Eleven pounds seventeen 
and ninepence-half penny. Why, this is abominable! She 
promised it should not be much more than ten pounds. 
There is five per cent, off for ready money. Oh, 1*11 pay it 
immediately. How much will that be altogether, Kate? 
Eleven shillings? Well, that is worth saving. It will buy me 
two pairs of gloves. Now 1*11 go and rest. Tell me when 
Mrs. Liddell is awake.** 


CHAPTEK II. 

BREAKING NEW GROUND. 

Katherine took care that her sister-in-law should not have 
an opportunity of private conversation with Mrs. Liddell, that 
evening at least. 

She rolled up and arranged the disordered manuscripts, 
putting the small study in order, and locking away the reject- 
ed tales. Then she proposed conducting the young widow to 
the florist *s, as the evening grew cooler, and made herself 
agreeable by listening attentively to the little woman's de- 
scription of the luncheon-party, and her repetition of all the 

& 


A CROOKED PATH. 


19 

pretty things said to her by the various gentlemen present, 
especially by Colonel Ormonde. 

44 Of course I do not mind their nonsense, but however my 
heart may cling to dear Fred’s memory, I must think of my 
precious boys/’ was her conclusion. To which Katherine 
answered, “ Of course,” as she would have answered any 
proposition, however wild, provided only she could save her 
mother from worry, at least for that evening. 

Next day was showery and dull. True to her resolution, 
Katherine put her mother’s lucubrations into their covers, and 
prepared to start on her projected round. 

44 I am not sure I ought to let you go, Katie dear,” said 
Mrs. Liddell, as her daughter came into the study in her out- 
door dress. 44 It is rather a wild-goose chase. Why should 
you succeed for me when I have failed for myself? Besides, 
personal interviews are of no avail. No editor will take work 
that does not suit him, however interesting the applicant. ” 

44 Nevertheless, I will go. I shall bring a new element into 
the business, and I may be lucky! Why have you plunged 
into these horrid accounts?” pointing to a pile of small books, 
and a sheaf of backs of letters scribbled over with calculations. 
44 This is not the way to cheer yourself.” 

44 My love, it is a change of occupation, at least, to revert 
to the old yet ever-new problem of life — how to extract thirty 
shillings from a sovereign. I am trying to see where we can 
possibly retrench. What is Ada doing?” 

44 She is decking the drawing-room and herself for the re- 
ception of Colonel Ormonde, who is coming to afternoon tea.” 

44 What, already?” 

44 She is quite excited, 1 assure you. Is it not soon to think 
of—” 

44 Do not judge her harshly. She is a woman not made to 
live alone. In due time I shall be glad to see her happily 
married, for she ivill marry.” 

44 Tell me, is that irreconcilable uncle ot,mine really still 
alive? How long is it since you heard anything of him?” 

44 Oil, more than six or seven years. But I am sure he is 
alive. I should have heard of his death. I suppose he is still 
living on in Camden Town?” 

44 Not a very agreeable quarter,” returned Katherine, care- 
lessly. 44 Good-bye, mother dear! Do not expect me to din- 
ner. I can have something whenever I come in. ” 

Katherine walked briskly toward town, intending to save 
some of her omnibus fare, for she had planned a long and dar- 
ing expedition — an undertaking which taxed all her courage. 


20 


A CROOKED PATH. 


Ill truth, though she had never known the ease or luxury of 
wealth, she had been most tenderly brought up. Her mother 
had constantly shielded her from all the roughness of life, and 
the deed she contemplated seemed to her mind an almost des- 
perate effort of independent action. 

Through one of the very few sleepless nights she had ever . 
experienced she had thought out an idea which had flashed 
through her brain while Mrs. Liddell was explaining her diffi- 
culties, and which she had carefully kept to herself. 

She saw clearly enough the hopelessness of their position; 
probably with the intensity of youth she exaggerated it, which . 
was scarcely necessary, as a small rut is apt to widen into a 
bottomless pit if it crosses the path of those who are living uj3 
to the utmost verge of a narrow income. As she reviewed the 
endless instances of her mother’s self-abnegation which mem- 
ory supplied — her cheerful industry, her brave struggle to live 
like a gentlewoman on a pittance, her tender thought for the 
welfare and happiness of her children — she felt she could walk 
through a burning fiery furnace if by so doing she could earn 
ease and repose for her mother’s weary spirit. 

44 She is looking ill and worn/’ thought Katherine, 44 and 
years older. She has never been the same since that attack of 
bronchitis last year. Ada and the boys are too much for her, 
though they are dear little fellows; but they are costly. If 
Ada would even give us twenty pounds a year more it would 
be a great help.” 

The project Katherine had evolved through the night- 
watches was to visit her uncle and ask him, face to face, for 
help! It is, she argued, harder to say 44 no ” than to write it; 
even if she failed she should know her fate at once, and not 
have to endure the agony of waiting for a letter. Hor, were 
she refused, need her mother ever know how she had humiliat- 
ed herself in the dust. 

How her young heart sunk within her at the thought of 
being harshly, contemptuously rejected! It was a jDOsitive 
painful physical sense of faintness that made her limbs trem- 
ble as she pressed on faster than she was aware. 44 But 1 ivill 
do it — 1 will! If I succeed, no humiliation will be too great,” 
she said to herself. 44 I will speak with all my soul! When I 
begin, this horrible feeling that my tongue is dry and speech- 
less will go away. I must find out where this awful old man 
is; what is his street and number? I dared not ask mother. 
First I will try the publisher: as the 4 servants’ hall ’ publica- 
tions have rejected it, I shall offer 4 Darrell’s Doom ’ to a first- 
rate house. Why not try Channing & Wyndham? They can 


A CROOKED PATH. 


21 


hot say worse than c no/ and I shall no doubt see a directory 
there.” Thus communing with herself, she took an omnibus 
down Park Lane, and walked thence to the well-known Temple 
of the Muses in Piccadilly. 

Arrived there, a civil clerk took her card — which was her 
mother’s — and soon returning, asked if she had an appoint- 
ment. “ No, I have not; but pray ask Mr. Channing or Mr. 
Wyndham to see me; I will not stay more than a few min- 
utes.” The young man smiled slightly; he was accustomed 
to such assurances. Almost as Katherine spoke, a stout 
“ country-gentleman*”-looking person came into the ware- 
house, slightly raising his hat as he passed her. A sudden in- 
spiration prompted her to say, “ Pray excuse me, but are you 
Mr. Wyndham?” 

“Iam.” 

“ Then do let me speak to you for five minutes.” 

“ With pleasure,” said the great publisher, graciously, and 
ushered her into a sort of literary loose box or small inclosure 
in the remote background. 

“ I have ventured to bring you a manuscript,” began Kath- 
erine, smiling with all her might, with an abject desire to pro- 
pitiate the arbiter of her mother’s fate. 

“ So I see,” he returned, ruefully but politely. 

“ It is a beautiful story, and I thought it ought to be pub- 
lished by a great house like yours,” pursued Katherine. 

“ Thank you,” he said, with a twinkle in his eye. “ Pray, 
is it your own?” 

“ Mine! Oh, dear no! It is my mother’s. She is not very 
strong, so / brought it.” 

There was a slight faltering in her voice that suggested a 
good deal to her hearer. “ Then you are not Mrs. W. Lid- 
dell,” glancing at the card, “but Mrs. Liddell’s daughter. 
Pray put down that heavy parcel. Three volumes, I sup- 
pose?” 

“ Yes, three volumes, but they are not very long, and the 
story is most interesting. ” 

“ No doubt. I hope it is not historical?” 

“ Oh, no! quite modern.” 

“ So much the better. "Well, Miss Liddell, I will look at 
the manuscript, or rather our reader shall, and let you know 
the result in due course; but I must warn you that we are 
rather overdone with three -volume novels, and there are 
already a large number of manuscripts awaiting perusal, so 
you must not expect our verdict for some little time.” 

“ When } r ou will — but, oh! as soon as you can,” she urged. 


22 


A CROOKED PATH. 


“ I will keep your address, and you shall hear at the earliest 
date we can manage. Good-morning. Very damp, uncom- 
fortable day/ 5 

Katherine felt herself dismissed, and almost forgot her 
ulterior intention. “ Would you be so very good as to let me 
look at the Directory, if you have one?” 

Certainly,” said Wyndham, who was slipping the card 
under the string of poor Katherine's parcel. Here, Tomp- 
kins, let this young lady see the Directory. Excuse me — I am 
a good deal pressed for time;” and with a bow he went off, 
the manuscript under his arm. 

“ Well, it is really in his hands, at all events,” thought 
Katherine, looking wistfully after it. 

A boy with inky hands here placed that thick volume, the 
Post-office Directory, before her, and she proceeded to search 
confusedly among the endless pages of names, a little strength- 
ened and cheered by her brief interview with the publisher. 
It seemed that she was in a lucky vein: trouble is always con- 
ducive to superstition. When visible hope fails, poor human 
hearts turn to the invisible and the improbable. 

At last she paused at “ John Wilmot Liddell, 27 Legrave 
Crescent, Camden Town, N. W. ” That must be her uncle; 
they were all Wilmot Liddells. How to reach his abode was 
the question. 

The inky boy soon gave her the requisite information. 
“ You take a Waterloo 'bus at Piccadilly Circus; it runs 
through to Camden Town; that is, to the beginning of Cam- 
den Town,” he said. Katherine thanked him, and again set 
forth. 

It was a long, tedious drive. The omnibus was crammed 
with warm passengers and damp umbrellas, but Katherine was 
too racked with impatience and fear to heed small discomforts. 
Would her dreaded relative order her out of his sight at once? 
Was her interview with the publisher a good omen? 

At last she reached the end of her journey, and addressing 
herself to the tutelary policeman solemnly pacing past the 
tavern where the omnibus paused, she asked to be directed to 
Legrave Crescent. 

It was an old-fashioned row of houses, before them a few 
sooty trees in a half-moon of grass, one side railed off from 
the street and dignified with gates at either end — gates which 
were al ways open. 

The place had a still, deserted air, but about the middle 
stood a cab, on which a rheumatic driver, assisted by a small 
boy, was placing a cumbrous box. As Katherine approached 


A CROOKED PATH. 


23 


she found that the house before which it stood bore the num- 
ber she sought, and on reaching it she found the door held 
open by a little smutty girl, the very lowest type of slavey, 
with unkempt hair, and a rough holland apron of the grimiest 
aspect. On the top step stood a stout woman, fairly well 
dressed in a large shawl and a straw bonnet largely decorated 
with crushed artificial flowers; a very red, angry face appeared 
beneath it, with watery eyes and a coarse, half-open mouth. 
All this Katherine saw, but hardly observed, so strongly was 
her attention attracted to a figure that stood a few paces within 
the entrance — a tall, thin old man, bent and leaning on a 
stick. He was wrapped in a long dressing-gown of dull dark- 
gray, evidently much worn; slippers were on liis feet, and a 
black velvet skull-cap on his head, from under which some 
thin straggling locks of white hair escaped. His thin aquiline 
features and dark, sunken eyes were alight with an expression 
of malignant fury; one long, claw-like hand was outstretched 
with a gesture of dismissal, the other grasped the top of his 
stick. 6 ‘ Begone, you accursed drunken thief !" he was 
almost screaming in a shrill voice. “ I would take you to the 
police court if there was anything to be got out of you; but it 
would only be throwing good money away after bad. Get you 
gone to the ditch where you'll die! You guzzling, muzzling 
fool, to leave my house without a shilling after all your pilfer- 
ing!" 

While he uttered these words with frightful vehemence, the 
woman he addressed kept up a rapid under-current of reply. 

“ Living with a miserable screwy miser like you would make 
a saint drh|k! Do you think people will serve you for noth- 
ing, and not pay themselves somehow? The likes of you are 
born to be robbed— and may your last crust be stole from you, 
you old skinflint!" With this last defiance she turned and 
threw herself hastily into the cab, which crawled away as if 
horse and driver were equally rheumatic. 

‘‘Shut the door," said the old man, hoarsely, as if ex- 
hausted. 

“ Please, sir, there's a lady here," said the little slavey. 
Katherine, who was as frightened as if she were face to face 
with a lunatic, had a terrible conviction that this appalling old 
man was her uncle. How should she ever address him? What 
an unfortunate time to have fallen upon! 

“ What do you want?" asked the old man, fiercely, frown- 
ing till his shaggy white eyebrows almost met over his angry 
black eyes. 

“ I want to see Mr. John Wilmot Liddell." 


u 


A CROOKED PATH. 


“ Then you see him! Who are you?” 

“ Katherine Liddell,, your niece.” 

“My niece!” with inexjn’essible contempt and disbelief. 
“ Well, niece or not, you may serve a turn. Can you read?” 

“ Yes, of course.” 

“Come, then — come in.” He turned and walked with 
some difficulty to the door of the front parlor. Half bewil- 
dered, Katherine followed mechanically, and the small servant 
shut the front door, putting up the chain with a good deal of 
noise. 

The room to which Katherine was so unceremoniously intro- 
duced was of good size, covered with a carpet of which no pat- 
tern and very little color were left. The furniture was old- 
fashioned and solid; a dining-table covered with faded green 
baize was in the middle, and a wri ting-table with several 
drawers was placed near the fire-place, beside which stood a 
high-backed leather arm-chair, old, worn, dirty. A wretched 
fire was dying out in the grate, almost choked by the red ashes 
of the very cheapest coal. 

An odor of dust long undisturbed pervaded the atmosphere, 
and the dull damp weather without added to the extreme 
gloom. Indeed the door of this apartment might well have 
borne Dante’s inscription over the entrance to a warmer place. 

Mr. Liddell went with feeble rapidity across to where a large 
newspaper lay upon the floor, and resting one hand on the 
writing-table, stooped painfully to raise it. 

“ There! read — read the price-list to me. I am blind and 
helpless, for that jade has hid my glasses. 1 know she has. 
1 can not find them anywhere, and I must know -how Turkish 
bonds are going. Read to me. I’ll hear what you iiave to say 
after.” He thrust the paper into her hand, and sat down m 
the high-backed chair. 

Poor Katherine felt almost dazed. She took a seat at the 
other side of the table, and began to look for the mysterious 
list. The geography of the mighty “ Times ” was unknown 
to her, and even in her mother’s humbler penny paper the city 
article was a portion she never glanced at. While she turned 
the wide pages, painfully bewildered, the old man “ glowered ” 
at her. 

“I don’t think you know what you are looking for,” he 
cried, impatiently. 

“ I do not, indeed! If you will show it to me — ” 

He snatched it from her, and j)ointed out the part he 
wished to hear. “ Read from the beginning,” he said. 

Katherine obeyed, her courage returning as she found her- 


A CROOKED PATH. 


25 


/ 

self thus strangely installed within the fortress she feared to 
attack. She stumbled occasionally, and was sharply set upon 
her feet, in the matter of figures, by her eager hearer. At last 
she came to Turkish six per cents. ” 

“ Eighty-seven to eighty-eight and a quarter.” 

“ Ha!” muttered the old man, “ that *3 an advance! good! 
nothing to be done there yet. Now read the railway stocks.” 

Katherine obeyed. When she came to “ Florida and Teche 
debentures, sixty -two and a half to sixty -five and three 
fourths,” she was startled by a sort of shrill shout. “Ay! 
that' s a rise! Some rigging design there! I must write — I 

must. Where, where has that harridan hid my glasses? 

Why, it is almost twelve o'clock! the boy will be here for the 
paper immediately. And the post! the post! 1 must catch 
the post. Can you write?” 

“ Oh, yes! Shall I write for you?” 

“ You shall! you shall! here's the paper ” — rising and open- 
ing an ancient blotting-book, its covers all scribbled over with 
tiny figures, the result of much calculating, he hastily set forth 
writing materials, his lean, claw-like, dirty hands trembling 
with eagerness. “Here, here, write fast.” 

Katherine, growing a little clearer, and amazed at her own 
increasing self-possession, drew off her gloves, and taking the 
rusty pen offered her, wrote at his dictation: 

“ To Messrs. Rogers & Stokes , Corbett Court, E. C: 

“ Gentlemen, — Sell all my Florida shares if possible to- 
day, even if they decline a quarter. 

“Iam yours faithfully — ” 

“ Now let me come there!” he exclaimed. “ I'll let no one 
sign my name. I'll manage that. There! there! Direct an 
envelope. Oh, Lord! I haven't a stamp — not one! and it's 
ten minutes' walk to the post* office.” 

“ 1 think — I believe I have a stamp,” said Katherine, draw- 
ing her slender purse from her pocket and opening it. 

“ Have you?” eagerly. “ Give it to me. Stick it on! Go! 
go! There is a pillar just outside the left-hand gate there; 
and mind you come back. I will give you a j)enny. Ah, yes, 
you shall have your penny!” 

“I hope you will hear me when I return,” she said, appeal- 
ingly, as she left the room. 

“ Ay, ay; but go — go now.” 

When Katherine returned she found the old man, with the 
half-opened book in his hand, waiting for her. 


26 


A CROOKED PATH. 


44 Were you in time?” he asked, eagerly. 

44 Oh, yes, quite. I saw the postman coming across the 
road to empty the box as I was dropping the letter in.” 

44 That’s well. I will rest a bit now, and you can tell me 
what you please. First, what have you come here for?” 

It was an appalling question, and nothing but the simple 
truth occurred to her as an answer. Indeed, some irresistible 
power seemed to compel the reply, spoken wery low and dis- 
tinct, 44 1 came here to beg.” 

The^old man burst into a singularly unpleasant laugh. 
46 Well, I like candor. Pray what business have you to beg 
from me?”' 

44 Because I know no one else to turn to — because you are 
so near a kinsman. Let me tell you about my mother.” 
Simply and shortly she gave the history of their life and strug- 
gles, of the coming of her brother’s young widow and orphans, 
of the disappointment of her mother’s literary expectations, of 
the present necessity. The quiver in her young voice, the 
pathetic earnestness with which she told her story, the deep 
love for her mother breathing through the recital, might well 
have moved a heart of ordinary coldness, but it seemed to 
make small impression on her grim uncle. 

44 You come of a wasteful, extravagant lot,” he said, faintly, 
44 if you are what you represent yourself to be — of which there 
is no proof whatever. How do I know you are the daughter 
of Frederic Liddell?” 

This was an objection Katherine had never anticipated, and 
knew not how to meet. She colored vividly and hesitated; 
then, struck with the ghastly pallor of the old man’s face, she 
exclaimed, 44 You are ill! you are fainting!” drawing near 
him as she spoke. 

44 1 am hot ill,” he gasped. 44 1 am weak from want of 
food. I have tasted none since yesterday afternoon.” 

44 Will you not order some?” said Katherine, looking round 
for a bell. 

44 There is nothing in the house. That drunken robber I 
have just driven out went off to her revels last night and left 
me without anything; but while she was away a tradesman 
came with a bill I thought was paid, and so I discovered all 
her iniquity.” 

44 You must have something,” cried Katherine, seriously 
alarmed. 44 Can I get you some wine or brandy?” and she 
rang hastily. 

Mr. Liddell drew a bunch of keys from his trousers pocket. 


A CROOKED PATH. 57 

and feebly selecting one, put it in her hand, pointing to the 
sideboard. 

The first cellaret Katherine opened was quite empty, the 
opposite one held two empty bottles covered with dust, and 
another, at the bottom of which was about a wine-glassful of 
brandy. She sought eagerly for and found a glass, and 
brought it to the fainting man, pouring out a small quantity, 
which he sipped readily enough. “Ah!” he said, “I was 
nearly gone. I must eat. I suppose that wretched brat can 
cook something. King again.” Katherine rang, and rang, 
but in vain. 

“ May 1 go down and see what has become of her?” 

“If you please,” he murmured, more civilly than he had 
yet spoken. 

Katherine, with increasing surprise and interest, descended 
the dingy stair and entered a chaotic kitchen. 

Such a scene of dirt and confusion she had never beheld. 
Nothing seemed fit to touch. The little girFs rough apron 
lay on the floor in the midst, and she herself was tying on a 
big bonnet, while a small bundle lay on a chair beside her. 
She started and colored when Katherine stood in the door- 
way. “ Mr. Liddell has sent me to look for you. He is very 
ill. AVhy did you not answer the bell?” 

“Because I was going away to mother,” cried the girl, 
bursting into tears. “ I could not stay here by myself. Mr. 
Liddell is more like a wild beast than a man when he is angry, 
and I have had a night and a day as would frighten a p'lice- 
man. I can't stay — I can't indeed, miss.'' 

“But you must ,” said Katherine, impressively. “I am 
Mr. Liddell's niece, and at least you must do a few things for 
me before you go.” 

“ Oh! if you are here, miss, 1 don't mind. I can't think as 
how you are Mr. Liddell's niece. ” 

“ I am, and* I must not leave him till he is better. What 
is your name?” 

“ Susan, ma'am.” 

“ Well, Susan, is there any bread or anything in the larder?” 

“ Not a blessed scrap, miss, and I am so hungry ” — a fresh 
burst of tears. 

“ Don't cry. Do as I bid you, and then you had better ask 
your mother to come here. Now get me some fresh water.” 

“ There's only water in the tap; the filterer is broke.” 

“ Well, give we a jugful. And are you too hungry to make 
up the fire?” 


28 


A CROOKED PATH. 


“ I'll manage that., 'm; we had a hundred of coal in yester- 
day morning before the row.” 

66 Then clear away the ashes and get as clear a fire as you 
can. I will get some food.” 

The desperate, deserted condition of the old man seemed to 
rob him of his terrors, and all Katherine's energy was roused 
to save him from the ill effects of his own fury. She hastened 
back to the dining-room. Mr. Liddell was sitting up, grasp- 
ing the arms of his chair. 

“ There is nothing down-stairs. Will you allow me to go 
and buy you some food? You will be ill unless you eat.” 

u Can't that child fetch what is needful?” he said, with an 
effort. 

“ 1 am afraid she may not return. ” 

“ Then you had better go. I'll open the door to you when 
you come back.” 

“ I will go at once. But you must give me a little money. 
I would gladly pay for the things, but 1 have only my omni- 
bus fare back.” 

“ How much do you want?” he returned, drawing forth an 
old worn porte-monnaie. 

46 If you will be satisfied with a chop, two shillings will get 
all you want,” said Katherine. 

‘‘There, then; bring me the change and an account,” he 
returned, handing her the required sum. 

Since her mother had become a housekeeper Katherine had 
done a good deal of the marketing and household management, 
and had put her heart into her work, as was natural to her. 
She therefore felt quite competent to make these small pur- 
chases. 

“ You will want a little more wine or something,” she vent- 
ured to suggest. 

“ I have plenty — plenty. Make haste!” 

Katherine called the little girl, told her she was going out, 
and promised to bring her back some food. Then she sped on 
her way to some shops she had noticed on her way, and soon 
accomplished her errand. This necessity for action put her 
right with herself, and gave her the courage she needed. With 
a word to the fainting old miser she descended to the chaotic 
kitchen, where she rejoiced the heart of the small slavey by 
the sight of the cold beef and bread she had brought for her. 
Then she set to work to cook the chops she had purchased. 
This done, to the amazement of the little servant, she looked 
in vain for a cloth to spread upon the only battered tray she 
could find. She was obliged to be content with dusting it and 


A CKOOKED PATH. 


29 


placing the result of her cooking between two warm plates 
thereupon. Then she carried the whole up to her starving 
relative. Mr. Liddell had fallen into a doze from exhaustion, 
and looked quite wolfish when, rousing up, his eyes fell on the 
sorely needed food. 

“ You have been quick, but it is surely wasteful to cook tivo 

chops . 99 

“You will not find them too much, I hope. I am sure you 
ought to eat both.” 

“ I do not know, but the meat is good.” He fell to and 
eat with a relish. Katherine asked where she could find some 
wine for him. He again produced his keys, selected one, and 
told her to open a door at the end of the room, which she fan- 
cied led into another. It was a cupboard, plentifully filled 
with bottles of various descriptions, from among which, by her 
patient's direction, she selected one labeled cognac, and gave 
him some in water. 

Katherine sat down and watched the old man demolish both 
chops with evident enjoyment. Then he paused, drank a lit- 
tle brandy and water, and drew over the plate containing the 
butter, and smelled it very deliberately. 

“ You have extravagant ways, I am afraid,” he said. “ This 
is fresh butter.” 

“ That piece only cost fourpence-halfpenny,” she said, 
gravely, “ and the little you eat you had better have good.” 

“ Fourpence-halfpenny!” he repeated, and fell into pro- 
found meditation, from which he broke with a sudden return 
to anger. “ What a double-dyed villain and robber that in- 
fernal woman has been! She told me that prices had risen to 
such a height that the commonest salt butter was eighteen- 
pence a pound, and that every chop was a shilling, that — 
that — 99 Then breaking off, with an air of the deepest pathos 
he exclaimed: “ Thirty shillings a week I gave her to keep the 
house, and she has left the butcher unpaid for six months. 
But / will not pay him. He shall suffer. Why did he trust 
her? What did you pay for these things?” he ended, abrupt- 
ly, in a high key. 

Katherine silently handed him the back of a letter on which 
she had scribbled down the items. 

“ What is the use of showing me this, when I can not read 
— when I have no glasses?” he exclaimed, impatiently. 

“ True, I must try and find them for you. Where did you 
first miss them?” 

“ Oh, I don't know. I had them on when I went to see 
that woman out of the house.” 


30 


A CROOKED PATH. 


Calling Susan to assist in the search, Katherine looked care- 
fully in the hall, but in vain, when her young assistant gave a 
cry of joy; she had almost trodden on them as they lay be- 
tween a mangy mat and the foot of the stairs. 

The recovery of his precious glasses did more to soothe the 
ruffled spirit of the recluse than anything else. He wiped 
them tenderly, and looking through them, observed that they 
were all right. Then he sat in profound silence, while Susan, 
under Katherine's directions, cleared up the hearth, and re- 
moved the heap of dust and ashes which had nearly put out 
the fire. When she had retired, carrying off the tray, Mr. 
Liddell turned his keen eyes on his young visitor, and said: 

“You came in the nick of time, and you seem to know what 
you are about; but 1 dare say I should have pulled through 
without you. Now about your story. Before anything else 1 
must be assured that you are really Frederic Liddell's daugh- 
ter. Not that your being so gives you the smallest claim upon 
me. " 

“ I suppose it does not," returned Katherine, sadly. “ Still, 
if you could help us with a loan at this trying time it might 
be the saving of our fortunes, and both my mother and myself 
would do our best to repay you." 

“ That's but indifferent security," said the miser, with a 
sardonic grin. 

“ I feel sure that my mother's novel will succeed. It is a 
beautiful story — and you know how some of the best books 
have been rejected — and when it is taken they will give her at 
least a hundred pounds for it!" cried Katherine, eagerly. 

“ Good Lord! a hundred pounds for trashy scribblings. " 

“ They are not trash, sir," returned Katherine, with spirit. 

“ And what sum do you want on this first-class security?" 
he asked. 

“ Oh, thirty or forty pounds!" she said, her heart beating 
with wild anxiety. 

“ Thirty pounds! Why, that is a fortune!" 

“It would be to us," said Katherine, fighting bravely 
against a desperate inclination to cry. 

“ And all you have to offer in exchange is a mortgage on an 
lovel?" 

nothing in the world but the furniture," she re- 
plied, with a slight sob. 

“ Furniture!" repeated Mr. Liddell, sharply. “ How much? 
— how many rooms have you?" 

“ A drawing-room and dining-room, my mother's study, 
and four bedrooms, besides — " 


unpublished ] 
“ We have 


A CROOKED PATH. 


31 


“ Well!” exclaimed Liddell, interrupting her, “you’ll have 
a hundred pounds’ worth in it, and I dare say it cost you two. 
Now you have shown you have some knowledge of the value of 
money, and you have served me well at this uncomfortable 
crisis. I’ll tell you what I will do; I’ll write to my solicitor 
to go and see you, at the address you have told me, to-morrow. 
He shall find out if you are speaking the truth, and look at 
your goods and chattels. If he reports favorably I will do 
something for you on the security of the furniture. You 
haven’t given a bill of sale to any one else, I suppose?” 

“ A bill of sale? — I do not know what you mean. ” 

“ Ah! perhaps not.” He rose and v A bled to his writing- 
table, where he began to write. “ What’s your address?” he 
asked. Katherine told him. Presently he finished and turned 
to her. “Put this in the post. Look at it. Mr. Newton, 
my solicitor, will take it with him when he calls, to-morrow or 
next day. No!” suddenly. “ I will send the girl with it to 
the pillar, and you shall stay till she returns. You may or 
you may not be honest; but I will never trust any one again.” 

“As you like,” returned Katherine, overjoyed not to be 
utterly refused. “And before I go, do let me try and find 
some one to be with you. It is dreadful to think of your being 
alone in this large house with only that poor little girl! and 
she is inclined to run away! I think her mother is coming 
here; let me stay till she comes.” 

“ I don’t want any one,” said the old man, fiercely. “ I 
am hale and strong; the child can do all I want. You got 
some food for her, I see. The strength of that meat will last 
till to-morrow. Then you must come to hear what 1 decide, 
and you can do what I want, if you are my niece!” 

“Do — let me find- some one to stay with you! I can not 
bear to think of your being alone. ” The old man stared at 
her curiously, and a sort of mocking smile parted his lips. 
“ May 1 at least ask Susan if her mother can come? for I am 
sure the girl will not stay alone.” 

“ Very well,” he said; “but be sure you do not promise 
her money! She may come here to keep the child company — 
not for my sake. ” 

Katherine hastened to question Susan, and found that her 
mother, a char-woman, lived near. She dispatched the little 
girl to fetch her, and after some parleying, agreed to give her 
half a crown if she would remain for the night, determined to 
pay it herself rather than mention the subject to the ogre up- 
stairs. Then she put her hat straight and resumed her gloves. 
“I must bid you good -morning now,” she said. “This 


32 


A CROOKED PATH. 


mother of Susan’s looks a respectable woman, and will not ask 
you for any money. Will you not let me get you some tea 
and sugar before 1 go, and something for — ” 

“No!” cried the old man. “I have some tea. It is all 

that robber left behind her. I want nothing more. Mind 

you come back to-morrow. If you are my brother’s daughter 
(though it is no recommendation!) I’ll do something for you. 
If you are not, I’d — I’d like to give you a piece of my mind.” 
He laughed a fiendish, spiteful laugh as he said this. 

“Then accept my thanks beforehand,” said Katherine, 
smiling a little wearily. 

She was very tired. It was an oppressive day, and she had 
been under a mental strain of no small severity. Now she 
was longing to be at home to tell her mother all her strange 
adventures, and she had yet to find out by what route she 
should return. 

Once more she said good-bye. Mr. Liddell followed her to 
the door, with an air of seeing her safe off the premises, rather 
than of courtesy, and Katherine quickly retraced her steps to 
the place where she had alighted, hoping to find that universal 
referee, a policeman, who would no doubt set her on her home- 
ward way. 


CHAPTER III. 

THE LAWYER’S VISIT. 

While her young sister-in-law was thus seeking fortune in 
strange places, Mrs. Fred Liddell was spending a busy and, it 
must be confessed, a cheerful morning, preparing for the an- 
ticipated visit of Colonel Ormonde. 

It was rather inconsiderate, she thought, of Katherine to go 
out and leave all the extra dusting of the drawing-room to her. 
If she, Katherine, had remained at home she would have taken 
the boys, as she always did, and then Jane, the house and 
children’s maid, would have been able to help. 

If Katherine would only stay out all day she could forgive 
her; but she would be sure to come in for dinner, and so ap- 
pear at afternoon tea, which by no means suited Mrs. F. Lid- 
dell’s views. 

The colonel had given so very highly colored a description 
of the young kdy who was with the little boy so nearly run 
over on the previous morning that the pretty widow’s jealousy 
was roused. 

In spite of her flightiness and love of pleasure she had a very 
keen sense of her own interest, and perceiving Colonel Or- 


A CROOKED PATH. 33 

monde's decided appreciation, she had made up her mind to 
marry him. 

This, she felt, would be more easily designed than accom- 
plished. Colonel Ormonde was an old soldier in every sense, 
and an old bachelor to boot, with an epicurean taste for good 
dinners and pretty women. He might sacrifice something for 
the first, but the latter were too plentiful and too come-at- 
table to be worth great cost. Still, it was generally believed 
he was matrimonially inclined, and Mrs. Fred thought she 
might have as good a chance as any one else, had she not been 
hampered with her two boys. 

It would be too dreadful if Ormonde's fancy were caught by 
Katherine's bold eyes and big figure. So Mrs. Fred wished 
that her sister-in-law might not put in an appearance. 

“ She is not a bit like other girls," thought the little woman 
as she finally shook her duster out of the open window and set 
herself to distribute the flowers she had bought the previous 
evening to the best advantage. “ She has no dear friends, no 
acquaintances with whom she likes to stop and chatter; she 
never stays out, and 1 don't think she ever had the ghost of a 
lover. When / was her age I had had a dozen, and I was 
married. Poor Fred! Heigho! I wish he had left me a little 
money, and I am sure I should never dream of giving him a 
successor. But for the sake of the dear boys I should never 
think of marrying! How cruel it is to be so poor, and to be 
with such unenterprising people! If Mrs. Liddell would only 
venture to make an appearance, and just risk a little, she 
might dispose of Kate and of me too. There are men who 
might admire Kate, and there they go on screwing and scrib- 
bling. I wish my mother-in-law would write for some big 
magazine — 6 Blackwood ' or 4 Temple Bar ' — or not write at 
all! That will do, I think. That is the only strong arm- 
chair in the house; it will stand nicely beside the sofa. Oh, 
have you come in already, children?" as the two boys peeped 
in. “ Couldn't Jane haye kept you out a little longer? Don't 
attempt to come in here!" 

“ Jane had to come back to lay the cloth. Mamma, where 
is auntie?" 

44 She has not come in yet. Why, dear me, it is nearly one 
o'clock! Go and get off your boots, my darlings, and ask 
grandmamma when she expects auntie." 

Mrs. Liddell did not know when Katherine might return, 
and, moreover, she was getting uneasy. She did not like to 
say much about her errand, for she knew her daughter-in-law 
thought but indifierently of her writings, and with an inde- 


34 


A CKOOKED PATH. 


scribable 44 crass ” dislike of what she could not do herself, 
would have been rather pleased than otherwise to know that a 
manuscript had been rejected. 

In looking over one of the drawers in her writing-table Mrs. 
Liddell had found that Katherine had left the shorter story 
behind. This rendered her prolonged absence less accounta- 
ble, for she could have interviewed several publishers of three- 
volume novels in the time. The poor lady naturally feared 
that they must have refused even to look at her work, or 
Katherine would have returned. 

When dinner was over, and four o’clock came, Mrs. Lid- 
dell’s anxiety rose high; she could not bear her daughter-in- 
law’s presence, and retired into her own den. 

44 Won’t you stay and see Colonel Ormonde? He used to 
be quite friendly with poor Fred in India, and 1 should like 
him to see what a nice handsome mamma-in-law I have,” 
said Mrs. Fred, caressingly; she rather liked her mother-in- 
law, and felt it was as well to be on affectionate terms with 
her. 

44 No, my dear; my head is not quite free from pain, and I 
want to give Katherine something to eat when she comes in; 
she will be very hungry. Then I can see that the children 
do not get into any mischief in the garden.” 

The younger lady then went to pose herself with a dainty 
piece of fancy-work in the drawing-room, and the elder to sit 
at her writing-table, pen in hand, but not writing; only think- 
ing round and round the circle of difficulties which hedged her 
in, and longing for the sight of her daughter’s face. 

At last it beamed upon her through the open door- window 
which led out on the stairway to the garden; her approach 
had been seen by her little nephews, who had admitted her 
through the back gate. 

44 You must not come in now, dears; I want to talk to 
grannie. If you keep away I will tell you a nice story in the 
evening. ” 

44 My dearest child, what has kept you? I have been un- 
easy; and how dreadfully tired you look!” 

44 1 am tired, but that is nothing. I think, dear, I have a 
little good news for you.” 

44 Come into the dining-room. I have some dinner for you, 
and we can talk quietly. Ada is expecting a visitor.” 

But Katherine could not eat until she told her adventures. 
First she described her interview with Mr. Wyndham. 

44 It is something certainly to have left my unfortunate MS. 


A CROOKED PATH. 35 

in his hands; still I dare not hope much from that/’ said Mrs. 
Liddell. 

“Then, mother dear/* resumed Katharine, “I ventured 
to do something for which 1 hope you will not be angry with 
me — I have found John Liddell! I have invaded his den; I 
have spoken to him ; I have cooked a chop for him, as I used 
for you last winter; and though 1 have been sent empty away, 
I am not without hopes that he will help us out of our diffi- 
culties. ** 

“ Katie dear, what have you done?** cried her mother, 
aghast. “How did you manage — how did you dare?** 
Whereupon Katherine gave her mother a graphic account of 
the whole affair. 

“It is a wonderful history,** said Mrs. Liddell. “I feel 
half frightened; yet if Mr. LiddelFs solicitor is an honest, re- 
spectable man, he will surely be on our side; at the same time, 
I am half afraid of falling into John LiddelFs clutches. He 
has the character of being a relentless creditor; he wdll have 
his pound of flesh! If he gives this money as a loan, and I 
fail in paying the interest, he will take me by the throat as he 
would the greatest stranger.** 

“Why should you fail?** cried Katherine. “You only 
want time to succeed. I am sure you will sell your books, 
and then we can pay principal and interest; besides, old Mr. 
Liddell could not treat his brothers widow as he would a 
stranger.** 

“ 1 am not so sure.** 

“ And you are not angry with me for going to him?** 

“ Ko, dear love; I am proud of your courage. Had I 
known what you intended, I should have forbidden you. I 
should never have allowed you to run the risk of being in- 
sulted; it was too much for you. I wish I could shield you 
from all such trials, my Katie; but I can not — I can not.** 
The unwonted tears stood in her kind, faded eyes. 

“ Ah, mother, you have borne the burden and heat of the 
day long enough alone; I must take my share now, and 1 as- 
sure you, after my adventures to-day, I feel quite equal to do 
so. I have been too long a heedless idler; I want to be a real 
help to you now. Do you think I have done any good?** 

“Yes, certainly; but everything depends on this man who 
is coming to-morrow. Your poor father used to know Mr. 
LiddelFs solicitor, and, I think, liked him; of course he may 
have a different one now. Still it is a gleam of hope, which 
is doubly sweet because you brought it.** 

Katherine hastily pressed her handkerchief to her eyes, and 


* 


36 


A CROOKED PATH. 


choked down the sob that would swell her throat. She was 
dreadfully tired, physically and mentally. 

“ Ada asked me for that money this morning as soon as you 
were gone. I told her I could not return it for awhile, and 
she did not look pleased, naturally enough.” 

“ I think she is very selfish,” said Katherine. 

“ No, dear, only thoughtless, and younger than her years. 
She is always nice with me, and would be with you if you had 
more patience. You must remember that no character is 
stronger than its weakest part, and hers is — ” 

“ Self,” put in Katherine. 

“ N o; love of admiration and pleasure,” added her mother. 

“Well,” returned Katherine, good-humoredly, “they are 
both very nice. ” 

Here the person under discussion came hastily into the 
room, in the crispiest of lilac and white muslins, with a black 
sash and bows, and a rose at her waist, looking as fresh as if 
the heaviest atmosphere could not touch her. 

“ Oh, you have arrived, Katherine! 1 wish you would come 
and see Colonel Ormonde. He wants so much to speak to 
you!” 

“ But 1 do not want to speak to him. I don't want to see 
any one. ” 

“ Do come, Katie! I assure you you have made quite an 
impression; come and deepen it,” cried Mrs. Frederic, with a 
persuasive smile, while she thought: “ She is looking awfully 
bad and pale, and Katherine without color is nowhere; her 
eyes are red, too. Come, like a dear,” she persisted, aloud, 
‘ 4 unless you want to go up and beautify. ' 9 

“ No, 1 certainly do not,” said Katherine, rising impatient- 
ly. “I will go with you for a minute or two, but I am too 
tired to talk.” 

“ Your hair is in utter disorder,” remarked her mother. 

“It is no matter,” returned Katherine, following her sis- 
ter-in-law out of the room. 

Her dress was by no means becoming. It was of thin black 
material, the remains of her last year's mourning; the white 
f i ill at her throat was crushed by the friction of her jacket, 
and some splashes on the skirt gave her a travel-stained aspect. 
But no disorder could hide the fine warm bronze brown of her 
abundant hair, nor disguise the shape of her brows and eyes, 
though the eyes themselves lost something of their color from 
the paleness of her cheeks : nor did her weariness detract from 
the charm of her delicate upturned chin. 


A CROOKED PATH. 


37 


44 Here is my naughty sister-in-law, who has been wander- 
ing about all the morning alone, and making us quite uneasy. ” 

^ What! In search of further adventures, eh?” asked 
Colonel Ormonde, rising and making an elaborate bow. He 
spoke in a tone half paternal, half gallant, in right of which 
elderly gentlemen sometimes take liberties. 

44 I went to do a commission for my mother,” said Kather- 
ine, indifferently. 

44 Ah! if we had a corps of such commissionnaires as you are 
we should spend our lives sending and receiving messages,” 
returned the colonel, with a laugh. He spoke in short au- 
thoritative sentences, with a loud, harsh voice, and in what 
might be termed the 44 big bow-wow ” style. 

“You must not believe all Colonel Ormonde says,” ob- 
served the fair widow, smiling and slightly shaking her head. 
44 He is a very faithless man.” 

44 By George! Mrs. Liddell, I don't deserve such a char- 
acter from you . But ” — addressing Katherine, who had sim- 
ply looked at him with quiet, contemplative eyes — 44 I hope 
you have recovered your fright of yesterday. I never saw eyes 
or cheeks express terror so eloquently. ' ? 

44 Yes, 1 was dreadfully frightened, and very, very grateful 
to the gentleman who saved poor Cecil. I hope he was not 
hurt?” l 

44 Shall I tell him to come and report himself in person?” 

44 No, thank you.” 

“Wouldn’t you like to thank him again? It might be a 
pleasant process to both parties — eh?” 

Katherine smiled good-humoredly, while she thought, 
4 4 What an idiot!” 

44 Katherine is a very serious young woman,” said Mrs. 
Frederic, 44 quite too awfully in earnest; is always striving 
painfully to do her duty. She despises frivolities, and never 
dreams of flirtation.” 

44 This is an appalling description,” said Ormonde. 44 Pray, 
is it on principle you renounce flirtation?” 

44 For a much better reason,” replied Katherine, wearily. 
44 Because I have no one to flirt with.” 

44 By Jove! there's a state of destitution! Why, it is a blot 
on society that you should be left lamenting.” 

44 Yes; is it not melancholy?” replied Katherine, carelessly. 
44 Ada, I am so tired I am sure you will excuse me if I go away 
to rest?” 

44 Before you go,” said Ormonde, eagerly, 44 1 have a re- 
quest to make. A chum of mine, Sir James Brereton, and 


h 


38 


A CROOKED PATH. 




myself are going ujd the river on Thursday with some friends 
of Mrs. Liddell's — a picnic affair. Your sister-in-law has 
promised to honor me with her company, and I earnestly hope 
you will accompany her. 1 promise you shall be induced to 
rescind your anti-flirtation resolutions. " 

44 Up the river?" repeated Katherine, with a wistful look, 
and paused. 44 On Thursday next? Thank you very much, 
but I'm engaged — quite particularly engaged." 

64 Nonsense, Katie!" cried her sister-in-law. “Where in 
the world are you going? You know you never have an en- 
gagement anywhere." 

44 Come, Miss Liddell, do not be cruel. We will have a very 
jolly day, and I'll try and persuade your hero of yesterday to 
meet you." 

4 6 1 should like to go very much, but I really can not. I 
thank you for thinking of me." She stood up, and, with a 
slight bow, said, 44 Good-morning," leaving the room before 
the stout colonel could reach the door to open it. 

44 Phew! that was sharp, short, and decisive," said Ormonde. 

44 Yes, wasn't it? She is quite a character. Leave her to 
me if you wish her to go. I will manage it." 

44 Yes, do. She is something fresh, though she is not so 
handsome as I thought. I suspect there is a strong dash of 
the devil in her. " \ 

44 1 can not say 1 have seen much of it," said the young 
widow, frankly. She was extremely shrewd in a small way, 
and had adopted an air of candid good-nature as best suited 
to her style and complexion. 44 Handsome or not, if you 
would like to have her at your party, I will try to persuade 
her to come." 

44 Thanks. WTiat a little brick you are!" said Ormonde, 
admiringly. 44 No nonsense with you, or trying to keep a 
pretty girl out of it. I say, Mrs. Liddell, it must be an awful 
life for you, shut up in this stuffy suburban box!" 

44 Well, it is not cheerful; but 1 have no choice, so I just 
make the best of it," she returned, with as bright a smile as 
she could muster. 44 No use spoiling one's eyes or one's tem- 
per over the inevitable. Then I am really fond of my mother- 
in-law, poor soul! She would spoil me if she had the means; 
and Katherine — well, she isn't bad." 

44 By George! if you make your mother-in-law fond of you, 
you must be an angel incarnate." 

44 An angel!" echoed the little lady. 44 That would never 
do. No, no; it is because I am so desperately human I get on 
with them all." 


f 


A CROOKED PATH. 


30 


“ Delightfully human, you mean. No house could be dull 
with you in it. There's nothing like pluck and good humor 
in a woman. " 

66 Well, Heaven knows I want both!" 

“ I am afraid I must be off," said the colonel. u 1 am go- 
ing to dine with Eversley, and he has a villa at Eoehampton 
—quite a journey, you know. Where is the little chap that 
was nearly run over?" 

“ Playing in the garden, very happy and very dirty. 1 dare 
not have him in— he always climbs up and hangs about me, 
for I have my best dress on!" the last words in large capitals. 

“ A deuced becoming dress, too; but it's not so fine as what 
you had on yesterday." 

“ No, of course not; there are degrees of best dress. Yes- 
terday's was my very best go-to-luncheon dress, and must last 
me a whole year." 

“A year! By Jove! And you always look well dressed! 
You are a wonderful woman! Now I must be off. Mrs. 
Burnett says she will send the carriage for you on Thursday. 
We drive down to Twickenham." 

“ Oh, thank you, Colonel Ormonde! I am sure I am in- 
debted to you for that lift," said Mrs. Frederic, while she 
thought, “ He might have driven me down himself." 

“ Au revoir , then. Always hard to tear myself away from 
such a charming little witch as you are. " 

Ormonde kissed her hand and departed. 

“ Jolly, plucky little woman," he thought, as he walked to- 
ward the Bays water Eoad, looking for a hansom. “ Just the 
sort to save a man trouble, and get full value out of a sover- 
eign. " He continued to muse on the wonderful discovery he 
had made of a woman perfectly planned, according to man's 
ideal — sweet, yielding, tenderly sympathetic, willing and capa- 
ble to ward off all annoyances from her master, full of feeling 
for his troubles, and not to be moved by her own to sad looks, 
unbecoming tears, or downcast spirits — all softness to him, all 
bristling sharpness to the rest of the world. “ Such a woman 
would answer my purpose as well as a woman with money, 
and she is an uncommonly tempting morsel. But then those 
infernal boys! I am not going to provide for another's fel- 
low's brats, and they can't have more than sixty pounds be- 
tween them from the fund! No; I must not make an ass of 
myself, even for a pretty, clever woman, who has rather a 
hankering for myself, or I am much mistaken. That sister- 
in-law of hers is the making of an uncommon fine woman. 


40 


A CKOOKED PATH. 


There’s a dasli of the tragedy queen about her, but it will be 
good fun to play her against the widow . 99 

And the widow, as she rang for the house-maid to remove 
the tea-things, indulged in a few speculations on her side. 
“ He was evidently disappointed with Katherine. I am not 
surprised. She is looking ill, and she has such ungracious 
maimers! Of course she will come to this Richmond party 
when I ask her, and I must ask her. Ormonde is a good deal 
smitten with me, but he’ll not lose his head. It is an awful 
thing to be poor and to have two boys. ‘ Oh, how dreadful it 
is to live in this horrible dull hole! I wonder if Colonel Or- 
monde will ever propose for me ! He is very nice and pleas- 
ant, but he is awfully selfish. I hate selfishness. Perhaps if 
Mrs. Liddell would undertake to keep the little boys alto- 
gether it might make matters easier. Poor children! if 1 were 
only rich 1 would never wish to part with them; but who can 
hold out against poverty?” 

The night which followed was sleepless to Mrs. Liddell. 
How could she dose her eyes when so much depended oil the 
visit she hoped to receive to-morrow? If this agent of John 
Liddell’s was propitious, she might get breathing- time and be 
able to wait till her manuscript brought forth some fruit; if 
not — well, she dared not think of the reverse. She listened 
to the soft, regular breathing of her daughter, who was 
wrapped in refreshing slumber, and thanked God for the 
quick forgetfulness of youth. It was like a fresh draft of life 
and hope to think of her courage and perseverance in finding 
out and affronting her miserly uncle. Good must come of it. 

Hay dawned bright and clear; and the little party met as 
usual at breakfast. Neither mother nor daughter had 
breathed a word of their hopes or fears to the pretty widow. 
Breakfast over, they all dispersed to their usual avocations. 
Katherine down-stairs was consulting cook, and Mrs. Liddell 
was wearily sorting and tearing up papers, when the servant 
came into the study and said: “ Please, ’m, there’s a gentle- 
man wanting you.” 

^ Where have you put him?” asked Mrs. Liddell, glancing 
«d presented to her, on which was printed, “ Mr. C. 
B. 1st 26 Manchester Buildings.” 

“ H? v the door, ’in.” 

“ Oh, sj him into the dining-room. Where is Mrs. 
Frederic?” 

^ Gone o m.” 

“ I will c directly,” and Mrs. Liddell hastily locked a 


A CROOKED PATH. 41 

drawer and put a weight on her papers. 44 Tell Miss Liddell 
to come to me,” she said as she passed. 

A short, thickset man of more than middle age, slightly 
bald, with an upturned nose, quiet, watchful eyes of no par- 
ticular color, and small sandy mutton-chop whiskers, was 
standing near the window when she entered. He made a 
quick bow, and stepped nearer. 64 Mrs. Liddell?” he asked. 

44 Yes, I am Mrs. Liddell.” 

4 4 1 have called on the part of my client, Mr. John Liddell 
of Legrave Crescent, to make certain inquiries. This note, 
which 1 received from him yesterday afternoon, will explain 
the object of my visit.” 

“ Pray sit down, Mr. Newton ” — taking a chair as she 
spoke, while she read the small, crabbed, tremulous characters 
written on the page presented to her. The note contained 
directions to call on Mrs. Liddell and ascertain if she really 
was the widow of his late brother; also what security she could 
offer for a small loan. 

Her color rose faintly as she read. 

44 You must not regard the plainness of business phrase- 
ology,” said the visitor, in dry, precise tones. 4 4 My client 
means no offense. ” 

44 Nor do I mean to take any,” she replied, handing him 
back the note. 44 Pray, how am I to jDrove my own identity?” 

44 It would not, 1 suppose, be very difficult; but, as it hap- 
pens, 1 can be your witness. I quite well remember seeing 
you with Mr. Liddell, your late husband, some sixteen or 
seventeen years ago.” 

44 Indeed. I am surprised that I do not recall you. I gen- 
erally have a good memory, but — ” 

44 1 am not surprised. I was unhappily the bearer of an 
unpleasant message, which excited Mr. Liddell considerably, 
and your attention was absorbed by your efforts to calm him.” 

44 1 remember,” said Mrs. Liddell, coloring deeply. 44 It 
was a trying time.” 

44 We will consider this inquiry answered. As regards the 
loan” — the door opening to admit Katherine interrupted 
him; he rose and bowed formally when her mother named 
her; then he resumed his sentence — 4 4 as regards the loan, I 
must first know the amount it is proposed to borrow, in order 
to judge of the security offered.” 

44 1 asked my uncle for thirty pounds, but I should be very 
glad if he would lend us forty — ” 

44 No, Katie, I dare not take so much,” interrupted her 
mother. 44 Remember, it must be repaid; and,” addressing 


42 


A CEOOKED PATH. 


the lawyer, she added, 44 the only security 1 have to offer is the 
furniture of this house — furniture of the simplest, as you will 
see/’ 

44 Have you seen Mr. Liddell?” asked Mr. Newton, a slight 
expression of surprise passing over his face. 

46 My daughter has,” said Mrs. Liddell. 

44 Yes; 1 ventured to visit him, because ” — she hesitated, 
and then went on frankly — 44 because we wanted this money 
very much indeed; and I found him in a sad condition.” 
Katherine went on to describe the scene of yesterday, dwelling 
on the desolate position of the old man. 44 1 felt frightened 
to leave him alone; he seems weak and unfit to take care of 
himself. I hope, Mr. Newton, you will go to him and induce 
him to have a proper servant. I am going, because I promised 
in any case to go; and I must give the little servant’s mother 
the half-crown I promised her. ” 

44 1 have been somewhat uneasy respecting Mr. Liddell. For 
a considerable time I had my doubts of his cook housekeeper; 
but he is a man of strong will and peculiar views. Then the 
fear of parting with money increases with increasing years. I 
am glad Miss Liddell succeeded in making herself known to 
him; he is a peculiar character — very peculiar. ” He paused 
a moment, looking keenly at Katherine, and added: 44 With a 
view to arranging for the loan you require, I must ask to look 
at your rooms. I do not suppose I am a judge of such things, 
but the knowledge of former transactions, my recollection of 
our last interview, determined me to come myself rather than 
to send an ordinary employe. ” 

4 4 1 feel your kind consideration warmly,” said Mrs. Lid- 
dell. 4 4 Follow me, and you shall see what few household 
goods I possess.” 

Gravely and in silence Mr. Newton was conducted to the 
drawing-room, the best bedroom, Mrs. Liddell’s, and the 
children’s rooms. The examination was swiftly accomplished. 
Then the sedate lawyer returned to the dining-room and be- 
gan to put on his right-hand glove. 44 1 presume,” he said, 
44 it is a mere formal question — 1 presume there is no claim 
or lien upon your goods and chattels?” 

44 None whatever. I want a little temporary help until — ” 
She paused. 

44 My mother has been successful in writing short stories. 
Ohanning & Wyndham have a three-volume novel of hers 
How; and I am sure they will take it; then she can pay Mr. 
Liddell easily.” 

The lawyer smiled a queer little withered, half-developed 


A CROOKED PATH. 


43 


smile. 44 1 trust your anticipations may be verified,” he said. 
“ Now, my dear madame, 1 need intrude on you no longer; I 
shall go on to see Mr. Liddell. But though I shall certainly 
represent that he may safely make you this small advance, it 
is possible he may refuse; and it is certain he will ask high in- 
terest. However, I shall do my best.” 

44 It will be a great accommodation if he consents. And if 
he is rich surely he will not deal as hardly with his brother’s 
widow as with a stranger.” 

44 Where money is concerned, Mr. Liddell recognizes neither 
friend nor foe. He will wish some form of the nature of a 
bill of sale to be signed.” 

44 Whatever you both think right,” said Mrs. Liddell. 

Here some shouts from the garden drew Newton's attention 
to the window, through which Cecil and Charlie could be seen 
endeavoring to put some noxious insect on the neck of the 
nurse-maid, who had taken them their noonday slices of bread 
and butter. 44 My grandsons,” said Mrs. Liddell, smiling; 
44 my poor boy's orphans.” 

44 Hum!” said the little man; and he stood a moment in 
thought. 

44 1 think Miss Liddell said her uncle expressed a wish that 
she should return to see him?” 

44 He made me promise to go back to-day.” 

44 Then by no means disappoint him. He is a very difficult 
man to manage, and if your daughter "—to Mrs. Liddell — 
44 could contrive to interest him, to make him indulge in a few 
of the comforts necessary to his years and his position, it would 
be of the last importance, and ultimately, 1 hope, not un- 
profitable to herself. " 

44 I fear the last is highly improbable; but Katherine will 
certainly fulfill her promise.” 

44 I am going to drive over to Legrave Crescent myself; if 
it would suit Miss Liddell to accompany me, I shall be most 
happy to be her escort.” 

44 Thank you; I shall be very glad.” 

44 My brother-in-law will not imagine there is any collusion 
between you?” asked Mrs. Liddell, with a smile. 44 Men of 
his character are suspicious.” 

44 No; I think I may venture so far, though Mr. Liddell is 
suspicious.” 

44 Then I must ask you to wait while I put on my hat,” said 
Katherine, and left the room. 

She bad changed her dress when her mother followed her. 
44 My love, you had better take a few shillings, and try and 


44 


A CROOKED PATH. 


come back soon. Why, Katie, considering you had to do 
cooking yesterday, you ought not to have put on your best 
frock, dear, for I see little chance of another. ” 

“ Oh, mother, I could not go out in my old black cashmere 
with Mr. Newton. Why, he is the perfection of neatness.” 

“ Here is Ada just coming in.” 

“What a volley of questions she will ask! Now, mother, 
do not satisfy her. Tell her my rich uncle has sent his solic- 
itor to interview us, and that I am going to dine with him. I 
wish I could have some dinner before I went, for I am going 
to Hungry Hall.” 

“ Courage, darling! If we can get this loan it will be a 
great relief. Do not keep him waiting any longer — there are 
your gloves. Come back as soon as ever you can.” 


CHAPTER IV. 

“a RIFT m THE CLOUDS.” 

“ Where in the world is Katherine going, and who is that 
man?” exclaimed the younger widow, her light-blue eyes wide 
open in amazement, when Katherine had passed her with a 
smiling “ Good-bye for the present,” and walked down the 
road beside the precise lawyer. 

“ She is going to her uncle, Mr. John Liddell, who expressed 
a wish to see her to-day, and that gentleman is Mr. LiddelTs 
solicitor,” returned the elder lady, smiling to think how soon 
she had been driven in upon the reserved force of her daugh- 
ter’s suggestion. 

“ What! that terrible old miser poor Fred used to talk of? 
Why, he will take a favorable turn, and leave everything to 
Katie! Oh, dear Mrs. Liddell, that will not be fair. Do con- 
trive to let him see Cis and Charlie. We will declare that 
Cecil is his very image. Old men like to be considered like 
pretty young creatures. I always get on with crabbed old 
men. Let me see him too. Katherine must not keep the 
game all in her own hands. Let me have a chance. ” 

“ I don’t fancy Katie has much of a chance herself,” re- 
turned Mrs. Liddell, as she followed her daughter-in-law into 
the dining-room. “It is an old man’s whim, and he will 
probably never wish to see her again.” 

“ Very likely. You know dear Katherine does not do her- 
self justice; her manners are so abrupt. You do not mind 
my saying so?” 

“ Not in the least.” Mrs. Liddell had a fine temper, and 
also a keen sense of humor. Though fond of and indulgent 


A CROOKED PATH. 


45 


to her daugliter-in-law, she saw through her more clearly than 
Katherine did, as she gave full credit for the good that was in 
her, in spite of her little foibles and greediness. “ Katherine 
is much more abrupt than you are.” 

“ Exactly. She will never be quite up to her dear mother’s 
mark. Few mothers and daughters-in-law get on as we do, and 
I am sure you would look after poor Fred’s boys as if they 
were your own. ” 

“ So would Katherine. Of that you maybe sure, my dear.” 

“ Oh, yfes; she is very fond of them, especially Charlie. I 
do not think she is really just to Cecil.” 

“ Eeal justice is rare,” returned Mrs. Liddell, calmly. 
“ There is a note for you, Ada, on the chimney-piece; it came 
just after you went out.” 

“ Why, it is from Mrs. Burnett!” — pouncing on it and tear- 
ing it open. “ ^hat shall I do?” she almost screamed as she 
read it. “I am afraid I shall never get there in time. What 
o’clock is it? — my watch is never right. Half past twelve, 
and luncheon. is at half past one. Oh, I must manage it! Read 
that, dear. Jane! Jane! bring me some hot water immediate- 
ly, and come help me to dress. What is the cab fare to Park 
Terrace? Eighteenpence? — it can’t be so much. Just lend 
me a shilling; you can take it out of the ten pounds you are 
to pay me next week.” And she flew out of the room. 

Mrs. Liddell sat down with a sigh, and read the note which 
caused this excitement : 

“ Dear Mrs. Liddell, — Do help me in a dilemma! We 
have a box for Miss St. Germaine’s benefit matinee to-morrow, 
and Lady Alice Mordaunt wants to come with Fanny and Bea. 
You know she is not out yet. Now I am engaged to go with 
Florence to Lady Maclean’s garden-party set Twickenham. So 
may I depend on you to come and chaperon them? If it were 
my own girls only, they could go with Ormonde or any one. 
But Lady Alice is to be escorted to our house by that incarna- 
tion of propriety, Mr. Errington; so they must have a chap- 
eron. I therefore depend on you. Luncheon at 1:30. Do not 
fail. Ever yours affectionately, 

“ E. Burkett.” 

Mrs. Liddell folded up the epistle and placed it in its en- 
velope; then she sat musing. IIow cruel it would be to break 
this butterfly on the wheel of bitter circumstance! It would 
be irrational, she thought, “ to expect the strength that could 
submit to and endure the inevitable from her . She will at 
once suffer more and less than my Katie. Small exterior 


46 


A CROOKED PATH. 


things will sting Ada and make her miserable. As long as 
Katherine’s heart is satisfied all else can be borne; but her 
conditions are more difficult. Heigho! for material ills there 
is nothing so intolerable as debt.” She rose and went to her 
room with the vague intention of doing some of the hundred 
and one things which needed doing, one more than another, 
as was usual in her busy life, but somehow the uncertainty 
and anxiety oj)pressing her heart made her incapable of con- 
tinued action: she was always breaking off to think#— and the 
more she thought, the more uneasy she grew. If she had 
worked out the thin vein of invention and observation which 
gained her humble literary success, one source of income was 
gone — a source on which she had reckoned too surely. Then 
she had not anticipated -that her daughter-in-law would be so 
expensive an inmate. Self-denial was a thing incomprehensi- 
ble to her. As long as she took care of hep clothes, and re- 
frained from buying the very expensive garments her soul 
longed for, she considered herself most exemplary. As for the 
smaller savings of omnibus and cabs not absolutely needful, 
she rarely thought of such matters, or, if she did, it made 
her frightfully cross, and urged her to many spiteful and con- 
temptuous remarks on girls who have the strength of a horse, 
and do not care what horrid places they tramp through: so 
that she never was able to lighten the household burdens by a 
farthing beyond the very small amount she had originally 
agreed to contribute toward them. 

Her mother-in-law’s meditations were interrupted by the 
young widow skurrying in in desperate haste. ‘ 6 J ane has 
gone for a cab,” she exclaimed; “ have you that shilling?” 

“ Here; you had better have eighteenpence, in case — ” 

“ Oh, yes, I had better; and do I look nice?” 

“ Very nice indeed. I think you are looking so much bet- 
ter than you did last year — ” 

“ That is because I go out a little; I delight in the theater. 
Now I must be off. There is the cab — oh! a horrid four- 
wheeler. Good-bye, dear. ” 

Mrs. Burnett was the wife of a civilian high up in the In- 
dian service, and was herself a woman of good family. She 
had come home in the previous winter in order to introduce 
her eldest daughter to society, and accidentally meeting Mrs. 
Frederic Liddell, whom she had known in India, was gracious- 
ly pleased to patronize her. She had taken a handsome fur- 
nished house near Hyde Park, and kept it freely open during 
the season. Admission to such an establishment was a sort of 
“ open sesame ” to heaven for the little widow. She loved, 


A CROOKED PATH. 


47 


slie adored Mrs. Burnett and the dear, charming girls, to say 
nothing of two half -grown sons, 44 the most delightful boys!” 
She was really fond of them for the time, and it was this touch 
of temporary sincerity that gave her the unconscious power to 
ho]d the hearts of Mrs. Burnett and her daughters. 

She was quite the pet of the family, and always at their beck 
and call. To keep this position she strained every means; she 
even denied herself an occasional pair of gloves in order to tip 
the stately man-servant who opened the door and opened her 
umbrella occasionally for her. 

She found the whole party assembled in the dining-room, 
and her entrance was hailed with acclamations. 

“ I had just begun to tremble lest you should not come,” 
cried Mrs. Burnett, stretching out her hand, but not rising 
from her seat at the head of the table. 

44 I only had your note half an hour ago,” said Mrs. Lid- 
del], with pardonable inaccuracy, feeling her spirits rise in the 
delightful atmosphere, flower-scented, and stirred by the laugh- 
ter and joyous chatter of the “ goodlie companie.” 

A long table set forth with all the paraphernalia of an ex- 
cellent luncheon was surrounded by a merry party, the girls in 
charming summer toilets, and as many men as women. Men, 
too, in the freshest possible attire, all 6 6 on pleasure bent.” 

44 Do you know us all?” asked Mrs. Burnett, looking round. 
44 Yes, 1 think all but Lady Alice Mordaunt and Mr. Kirby.” 

44 I have never had the pleasure of meeting Lady Alice Mor- 
daunt before ” — with a graceful little courtesy — 44 but Mr. 
Kirby, though he has forgotten me, 1 remember meeting him 
at Rumchuddar, when I first went out to my poor dear papa. 

Perhaps you remember him — Captain Dunbar, at ?” 

Thus said Mrs. Liddell, as she glided into her seat between 
one of the Burnetts and a tall, big, shapeless-looking man 
with red hair, small sharp eyes, a yellow-ochreish complexion, 
and craggy temples, who had risen courteously to make room 
for her. 

44 God bless my soul!” he exclaimed, turning red — a dull, 
deep red. 44 1 remember perfectly — that is, I don't remem- 
ber you ; I remember your father. I'm sure I do not know 
how I could have forgotten you,” with a shy, admiring glance. 

44 Nor I either,” cried Colonel Ormonde, who sat opposite. 
44 Though Mrs. Liddell does not seem to remember me. ” 

44 Why, I only saw you yesterday, and I am sure I bowed to 
you as I came in. '' So saying, Mrs. Liddell lifted her head 
with a sweet, caressing smile to the eldest of the Burnett boys, 
who himself brought her some pigeon pie; and from that mo- 


48 


A CROOKED PATH. 


ment she devoted herself to her new acquaintance, utterly re- 
gardless of the hitherto tenderly cultivated colonel. 

Kirby, a newly arrived Indian magistrate, was not given to 
conversation, but he was assiduous in attending to his fair 
neighbor's wants, and seemed to like listening to her lively re- 
marks. 

Colonel Ormonde glanced at thetfi from time to time; he 
was amazed and indignant that Mrs. Liddell could attend to 
any one save himself. He was rather unfortunately placed be- 
tween Miss Burnett, whose attention was taken up by Sir 
Ralph Brereton, a marriageable baronet, who sat on her other 
side, and Lady Alice Mordaunt, a timid, colorless, but grace- 
ful girl, still in the school-room, who scarcely spoke at all, and 
if she did, always to her right-hand neighbor, a stately looking 
man with grave, dark eyes, which saved him from being plain, 
and a clear, colorless brown complexion. He said very little, 
but his voice, though rather cold, was pleasant and refined, 
conveying the impression that he was accustomed to be heard 
with attention, lie too was very attentive to Lady Alice, but 
in a kind, fatherly way, as if she were a helpless creature 
under his care. 


44 1 believe we are quite an Indian party/' said Mrs. Burnett, 
looking down the table. “ Of course my children are Indian 
by inheritance; then there are Mr. Kirby and Mr. Errington " 
— nodding to the dark man next Lady Alice — “ and Colonel 
Ormonde." 

u Iam not Indian, you know: I was only quartered in India 
for a few years," returned Ormonde, contradictiously. 

44 And I was only a visitor for one season's tiger-shooting," 
said Brereton. 

“ And 1 do not want to go," cried Tom Burnett ; “ I want 
to be an attache." 

44 Oh, yes; you speak so many languages!" said his younger 
sister. 


44 I certainly do not consider myself an old Indian," said 1 
the man addressed as Errington, 44 though I have visited it 
more than once. " 

44 You an Indian!" cried Ormonde. 44 Why, you have just 
started as an English country gentleman. We are to have 
Errington for a comrade on the bench and in the field down in 
Clayshire. His father has bought? Gars ton Hall — quite close 
to Melford, Lady Alice. But I suppose you know all about 
it." 

44 Yes/' said Lady Alice, in a tone which might be affirma- 


A CROOKED PATH. 49 

tion or interrogation. “ There are such pretty walks in °Gar- 
ston Woods !** 

“Errington was born with a silver spoon in his mouth/* 
returned Ormonde. “ Gars ton dwarfs Castleford, 1 can tell 
you. It was a good deal out of repair — the Hall I mean?** 

“ It is. We do not expect to get it into thorough repair till 
winter. Then I hope, Mrs. Burnett, you will honor us by a 
visit/* said Errington. 

“ With the greatest pleasure/* exclaimed the hostess. 

“And oh, Mr. Errington, do give a ball!** cried Fanny, 
the second daughter. 

“ 1 fear that is beyond my powers. I do not think I ever 
danced in my life.** 

“Are you to be of the party on board Lord Melford*s 
yacht?** asked Ormonde, speaking to Lady Alice. 

“ Oh, no. I am to stay with Aunt Harriet at the Rectory 
all the summer.** 

“Ah, that is too bad. You*d like sailing about, I dare 
say?** 

“Oh, yachting must be the most delightful thing in the 
world/* cried Mrs. Liddell, from her place opposite. “ If I 
were you I should coax my father to let me go.** 

“ Papa knows best. 1 am very fond of the Rectory,** said 
Lady Alice, blushing at being so publicly addressed. 

“ And you understand the beauty of obedience/* said Er- 
rington, with grave approval. 

“ Now if you intend to see the whole ‘ fun of the fair/ ** 
said Mrs. Burnett, “ you had better be going, young people. 
The carriage is to come back for us after setting you down at 
the theater. Who are going? My girls. Lady Alice, and Mrs. 
Liddell? Who is to be their escort? Colonel Ormonde?** 

He glanced across .the table. Mrs. Liddell sent no glance 
in his direction; she again devoted her attention to Kirby. 

“No, thank you. To be intensely amused from two to six 
is more than I can stand ; besides, 1 hope to meet you at Lady 
Maclean*s this afternoon.** 

“ 1 have an engagement, a business engagement at three/* 
said Errington; “ but I shall be happy to call for these ladies 
and see them home. ** 

“You need not take that trouble/* said Mrs. Burnett. 
“ My son will be in the theater later, and take charge of them ; 
but there is still a place in the box. Will you go, Mr. Kirby?** 

“ Oh, pray do!** cried Mrs. Liddelh “ You will be sure to 
be amused; a matinee of this kind is great fun. There is 


50 


A CROOKED PATH. 


singing and dancing and acting and recitations of all kinds. 99 
She spoke in her liveliest manner and her sweetest tones. 

44 You are very good. I have not been in a theater since I 
arrived; so if you really have a place for me, I shall be most 
happy to accompany you. ” 

44 That’s settled. Go and put on your hats, my dears,” 
said Mrs. Burnett; and her daughters, with Lady Alice, left 
the room. 

44 Well, Mrs. Liddell, have you persuaded your handsome 
sister-in-law to join our j)arty on Thursday?” asked Ormonde. 

44 I have really had no time to speak much to her. An old 
uncle of hers, as rich as a Jew and a perfect miser, sent his 
lawyer for her this morning. I suppose he is going to make 
her his heiress. I hope they will give a share to my poor little 
boys. I am going to take them to ask a blessing from their 
aged relative, I assure you. ” 

44 Oh, yes, by George! you try and hold on to him. The 
little fellows ought to have the biggest share, of course, as the 
nephetv’s children. Why, it would change your position alto- 
gether if your boys had ten or fifteen thou, between them . 99 

44 Or apiece,” said Mrs. Liddell, carelessly. She was im- 
mensely amused by the colonel’s tone of deep interest. 44 You 
may be very sure I shall do my best. 1 know the value of 
money.” 

44 May I ask where this Mr. Liddell resides?” asked Mr. 
Errington, joining them, with a bow to the young widow. 

44 I really do not know, though he is my uncle-in-law. Pray, 
do you know him?” 

44 No; 1 know of him, but we are not personally acquainted. ” 

44 And is he not supposed to be yery rich?” 

46 That 1 can not say; but I have an idea that he is well off . 99 

W ith another bow Errington retreated to say good-morning 
to his hostess. 

44 Well, whether your sister-in-law comes or not, I hope we 
are sure of your charming self?” said Ormonde. 

44 Unless I am obliged to parade my boys for their grand- 
uncle’s inspection, I am sure to honor you.” 

44 Of course everything must give way to that. I shall come 
and inquire what news soon, if I may?” 

44 Oh. yes; come when you like.” 

44 They are all ready, Mrs. Liddell,” remarked her hostess. 

Mr. Kirby offered his arm, which was accepted with a smile, 
and the little widow sailed away with the sense of riding on the 
crest of a wave. The ladies were packed into the carriage. 


A CROOKED PATH. 


51 


the polite man out of livery whistled up a hansom for the two 
gentlemen, and the luncheon-party was over. 

It was a weary day to Mrs. Liddell — the dowager Mrs. 
Liddell, as society would have called her, only she had no 
dower. All she had inherited from her husband was the rem- 
nant of his debts, which she had been struggling for some 
years to pay off, and the care and maintenance of her boy and 
girl, on her own slender funds. 

At present the horizon looked very dark, and she almost re- 
gretted for Katherine's sake that she had agreed to make a 
home for her son's widow and children. Yet what would have 
become of them without it? 

Partly to rouse herself from her fruitless reflections, partly 
to relieve the house-maid, who had been doing some extra 
scrubbing, Mrs. Liddell took her little grandsons to Kensing- 
ton Gardens, and when they had selected a place to play in she 
sat down with a book which she had brought in the vain hope 
of getting out of herself. But her sight was soon diverted 
from the page before her by the visions which came thronging 
from the thickly peopled past. 

Her life had been a hard continuous fight with difficulty 
after the first few years of her wedded existence. She had 
seen her gay, pleasure-loving husband change under the iron 
grasp of untoward circumstance into a querulous, bitter, dis- 
appointed man, rewarding all her efforts to keep their heads 
above water by sarcastic complaints of her narrow stinginess, 
venting on her the remorseful consciousness, unacknowledged 
to himself, that his reverses were the result of his own reckless 
extravagance. Perhaps to her true heart the cruelest pain of 
all was the gradual dying out, or rather killing out, of the 
love she once bore him, the vanishing, one by one, of the illu- 
sions she cherished respecting him, till she saw the man as he 
really was, weak, unstable, self-indulgent, incapable of true 
manliness. Still she was patient with him to the last; and 
when she was relieved by friendly death from the charge of so 
willful and ungrateful a burden — though things were easier, 
because hers was the sole authority — it was a constant strain 
to provide the education necessary for her boy. But that ac- 
complished, she had a sweet interlude with her daughter in 
humble peace, and while she did her best to arm the child for 
the conflict of life, she avoided weakening herself by too much 
thought for her future. This spell of repose was broken by 
the necessity for sacrificing some of her small capital to set 
her son free from his embarrassments. Then came his death 


52 


A CROOKED PATH. 


and her present experiment in housekeeping in order to give 
his widow and children a refuge. 

For the last four or five years she had made a welcome addi- 
tion to her small income by her pen, contributing to the 
smaller weekly periodicals stories and sketches; for Mrs. Lid- 
dell had seen much with keen, observant eyes, and had a fair 
share of humor. This small success had tempted her to spend 
several months on a three-volume novel, thereby depriving 
herself of present remuneration which shorter, lighter tales 
had brought in. She sorely feared this ambitious step was a 
mistake — that she had overestimated her own powers. She 
feared that she could never manage to keep up the very hum- 
ble establishment she had started. Above all, she feared that 
her own health and physical force were failing. It was such 
an effort to do much that formerly was as nothing. That at- 
tack of bronchitis last spring had tried her severely; she had 
never felt quite the same since. And if she were called away, 
what would become of Katherine? Never was there a dearer 
daughter than her Katie. She knew every turn, every light 
and shade, in her nature — her faults, her pride and hastiness, 
her deep, tender heart. A sob rose in her throat at the idea 
of Katherine being left alone to engage single-handed in the 
struggle for existence. No! She wo ill cl live! — she would bat- 
tle on with poverty and difficulty till Katherine was a few years 
older; till she was stronger and better able to stand alone. 

“ Yet she is strong and brave for nineteen,” thought the 
mother, proudly. “ Perhaps I have kept her too much by 
my side. I wish I could let her pay a visit to the Mitchells. 
They have asked her repeatedly; but we must not think of it 
at present.” 

Here her little grandsons, who had more than once broken 
in upon her musings, came running across the grass to inform 
her they were sure it was tea-time, as they were very hungry. 

“ Then we shall go home,” said Mrs. Liddell, immediately 
clearing her face of its look of gloom, and rising to accompany 
them, cheered by the thought that perhaps Kate’s dear face 
might be ready to welcome her. 

But neither daughter nor daughter-in-law awaited her, and a 
couple of hours went slowly over — slowly and wearily, for she 
forced herself to tell the boys a couple of thrilling tales, before 
they went to bed, to keep them quiet and cool. Then, with 
promises that both mamma and auntie should come and kiss 
them as soon as they returned, she dismissed the little fellows. 

It was past seven when Katherine at last appeared at the 
garden gate. 


A CROOKED PATH. 53 

“ I am so glad you have come in before Ada,” cried Mrs. 
Liddell, embracing her. “ Are you very tired, dearest?” 

“ No, not nearly so tired as yesterday;* and, mother dear, 
I think that strange old man will certainly give us the money. ” 

“ Thank God! Tell me all about your day. ” 

“It was all very funny, but not terrible/ like yesterday. 
My uncle seems determined to make a cook of me. He would 
not let them buy or prepare any food for him, except a cup of 
tea and some toast, until I came. How that frail old man can 
exist upon so little nourishment I cannot imagine; but though 
I seem to give him satisfaction, he does not express any. While 
he and Mr. Newton talked I was sent to look at the condition 
of the rooms upstairs. Such a condition of dust and neglect 
you could not conceive. Oh, the gloom and misery of the 
whole house is beyond description!” 

“Did you get anything to eat yourself?” asked Mrs. Lid- 
dell. 

“ Yes; Mr. Newton, who is really kind and friendly under 
his cool, precise exterior, sent for some cakes. He stayed a 
good while. I think he has a good deal of influence on Mr. 
Liddell. (I can hardly call him uncle.) He was more polite 
when Mr. Newton was present. W T hen he was going away he 
said, 6 I am happy to say I have convinced Mr. Liddell that 
you are his niece, and if you and your mother will call upon 
me at noon to-morrow, the loan you wish for can be arranged, 
if you will agree to certain conditions, which I should like to 
explain both to you and to Mrs. Liddell/ He gave me his 
card. Here it is. He has written 6 twelve to one 9 on it.” 

“ They must be very hard conditions if we can not agree to 
them,” said Mrs. Liddell, taking out her porte-monnaie and 
putting the card into it. “ This is indeed a Godsend, Katie 
dear. I am thankful you had the pluck to attack the old lion 
in his den.” 

“Lion! Hyena rather. Yet I cannot help feeling sorry 
for him. Think of passing away without a soul to care 
whether you live or die — without one pleasant memory!” 

“ His memories are anything but pleasant,” returned Mrs. 
Liddell, gravely. “ His wife, of whom 1 believe he was fond 
in his own way, left him when their only child, a son, was 
about ten years old. This seemed to turn his blood to gall. 
He took an unnatural dislike to his poor boy, and treated him 
so badly that he ran away to sea. Poor fellow! he used some- 
times to write to your father. Their mutual dislike to John 
Liddell was a kind of bond between them. It is an unhappy 


54 


A CROOKED PATH. 


story, for, as I told you, he was afterward killed at the gold 
diggings.” 

44 Very dreadful!” said Katherine, thoughtfully. 44 What 
a cruel visiting of the mother’s sin on the unfortunate child! — 
that horrible bit of the decalogue! With all his icy-cold selfish- 
ness Mr. Liddell is a gentleman. His voice is refined, and 
except when he was carried away by his fury against his 
roguish housekeeper he seems to have a certain self-respect. 
After Mr. Newton went away I read for a long time all the 
money articles in two penny papers, for the 4 Times ’ had been 
taken away. Then 1 wrote a couple of letters, and all my 
uncle said was: 4 So it seems you really are my niece. Well, 
I hope you know more of the value of money than either your 
father or mother/ I could not let that pass, and said, 4 My 
father died when I was too young to know him; but no one 
could manage money better nor with greater care than my 
mother.’ He stared at me. ‘I am glad to hear it,’ he re- 
turned, very dryly. He had a note from his stock-broker in 
reply to one I wrote for him yesterday. He seemed greatly 
pleased with it. He kept chuckling and murmuring, 4 Just 
in time, just in time!’ ” 

44 Perhaps he will fancy you bring him luck.” 

44 I am awfully afraid he will want me to go and read to 
him every day, for when I was directing one of the letters he 
said, as though to himself, 4 If she can read and write for me 
I need not buy a new pair of spectacles.’ It would be too 
dreadful to be with that cynical hyena every day. ” 

44 Oh, when he gets a good servant he will not want you.” 

44 1 hope not.” 

44 Now come, you must have your supper, dear. 1 am sure 
you have earned it. We will have it q uietly together before 
Ada comes back. I feel so relieved, I shall be able to eat 
now.” 


CHAPTER V. 

44 INTO THE SHADOWS.” 

To avoid Mrs. Frederic Liddell’s almost screaming curiosity 
was not easy, and to appease it Kate assumed an air of frank- 
ness, saying that she believed Mr. Liddell merely wished to 
test her powers as secretary, and that she hoped she had not 
succeeded too well. 

44 Oh, you lazy thing! You really ought to try and get in 
with him. Oughtn’t she, Mrs. Liddell?” 


A CROOKED PATH. 55 

“ Yes, certainly, if she can; but I fancy it will not be so 
easy. What are you going to do to-day, Ada?” 

“ Oh, nothing” — in a rather discontented tone. “Why 
do you ask?” 

“ Because I am obliged to go into town on a matter of busi- 
ness, and I want to take Katherine.” 

“ Well, I will look after the boys ” — condescendingly, as if 
it were not her legitimate business. “ But I really think you 
worry too much about those tiresome publishers. They would 
think more of you if you troubled them less. Your mother 
looks pale and fagged, Katherine.” 

“ Yes, she does indeed,” looking anxiously at her. 

“ I am afraid the publishers w'ould leave me too utterly un- 
disturbed if I left them alone,” returned Mrs. Liddell, smil- 
ing, and leaving the suggestion uncontradicted. This con- 
versation took place at breakfast. 

Mother and daughter made the journey cityward very 
silently, both a good deal occupied conjecturing what con- 
ditions John Liddell could possibJy mean to impose. Perhaps 
only a very high rate of interest, which would cost no small 
effort to spare from their narrow income. 

Mr. Newton received his visitors directly their names were 
sent up to him. His was an eminent firm; their offices, 
light, clean, well furnished, an abode which impressed those 
who entered with the idea of fair dealing, and forbade the 
notion of dark dusty corners, moral or physical. 

Katherine's quick eyes took in the aspect of the place; the 
book-shelves, where stores of legal learning in calf-bound 
volumes were ranged; the various brown tin boxes with names 
in white paint suggestive of the title-deeds “ of all the land;” 
the big knee-hole table loaded with papers; the heavy chairs 
upholstered in the best leather for the patients who came to 
be treated; and Mr. Newton himself more intensely cleaned 
up and starched than ever, in an oaken seat of mediaeval form. 

He rose and set chairs for Mrs. Liddell and her daughter 
himself; then he rustled among his papers, and spoke down a 
tube. 

“Ahem!” he began. “Your brother-in-law, madame, is 
a man of peculiar character, but by no means without dis- 
crimination. Thank you ” — to a clerk who brought in a long 
folded paper and laid it beside him, disappearing quickly. 
“ By no means without discrimination,” repeated Mr. New- 
ton. “ Unfortunately the love of money grows on a childless 
man, and his terms for the loan you require may not meet 
your approbation.” 


56 


A CROOKED PATH. 


44 Pray what are they?” asked Mrs. Liddell. 

44 My client will accept a bill of sale on your furniture as 
security, but he will give you a period of eighteen months to 
repay him, and he will charge ten per cent. ; but if you agree 
to another condition, which I will explain, he will be content 
with five per cent. ” 

44 This must be a severe condition,” said Mrs. Liddell, with 
a slight smile. 

44 No; it may prove a fortunate condition,” said the lawyer, 
with some hesitation. 44 In short, I have persuaded Mr. Lid- 
dell to allow me to choose him a respectable servant at fair 
wages. The state into which he has fallen is deplorable. I 
felt it my duty to remonstrate with him, and he is not averse 
to my influence. I therefore pressed upon him the necessity 
of having a better class of housekeeper, a person who could 
read to him and write for him, and would be above drink and 
pilfering.” 

44 What did he say to that?” asked Katherine, with a bright, 
amused look. 

44 He said, very decidedly: 4 1 will have that girl you say is 
my niece to be my housekeeper and reader. She gave me the 
best and cheapest dinner I ever eat; her letter to my stock- 
broker brought me luck; and I will pay ready money for every- 
thing so she shall not be able to leave books unpaid. If she 
comes I will be content with five per cent, on the loan, which 
must do instead of salary; and if she refuses, why, so do 1/ 
An ungracious speech, Mrs. Liddell, but there is the con- 
dition. ” 

44 Do you mean my brother-in-law will refuse to help me if 
my daughter does not go to manage his house?” 

44 So he says.” 

44 But did you not say at first that he would take ten per 
cent, without this sacrifice?” 

44 He said so at first; then this plan seemed to strike him, 
and he was very firm about it.” 

44 It is an awful place to go to.” The words burst from 
Katherine's lips before she could stop herself. 

44 1 can hardly agree to such a condition as this,” cried 
Mrs. Liddell. 

44 And 1 must urge you not to reject it,” said Mr. Newton, 
impressively, 44 for the sake of your daughter and grandsons. 
I must point out that by refusing you not only deprive your- 
self of the temporary aid you require, but you cut off your 
daughter from all chance of winning over her. uncle by the in- 
fluence of her presence. Propinquity, my dear madame — 


A CEOOKED PATH. 


57 


propinquity sometimes works wonders; and Mr. Liddell has a 
great deal in his power. I would not encourage false hopes, 
but this is a chance you may never have again — a chance of 
sharing her uncle's fortune. If she refuses, lie will never see 
her again." 

Silence ensued. The choice was a grave difficulty. Mrs. 
Liddell looked at Katherine, and Katherine looked at the 
carpet. 

Suddenly Katherine looked up quickly, and said, in a clear, 
decided voice: “I will go. 1 will undertake the office of 
secretary and housekeeper — at least until my mother pays off 
this loan. " 

“ Katie, my child, how shall you be able to bear it?" 

“ Miss Liddell has decided wisely and well," said the law- 
yer. “ I earnestly hope — nay, I believe — she will reap a rich 
reward for her self-sacrifice. " 

“ But, Mr. Newton, I can not consent without some reflec- 
tion. I too have some conditions to impose." 

“ And they are?" put in Newton, uneasily. 

“ I can not define them all clearly on the spur of the mo- 
ment; but I must have leave to go and see my daughter when- 
ever I choose, and she must have the right to spend one day 
in the week at home." 

“ This might be arranged," said the lawyer, thoughtfully. 
“ Be brave, my dear madame. Sacrifice something of the 
present to secure future good. " 

“ Provided we do not pay too high a price for a doubtful 
benefit. It will be terrible for a young girl to be the bond- 
slave of such a man as John Liddell." 

“ Well, mother, I am quite willing to undertake the task. 
Not that 1 am going to be a bond-slave, but as soon as you 
have joaid your debt, 1 shall consider myself free." 

“ By that time, my dear young lady, I hope you will have 
made yourself of so much importance to your uncle that he 
will make it worth your while to stay," exclaimed Newton, 
who was evidently actuated by a friendly feeling toward both 
another and daughter. 

“ He must bribe high, then," returned Kate, laughing. 

“Then may I inform Mr. Liddell that you accept his 
proposition? and are you prepared to begin your duties at 
once? Bemember he considers his acceptance of five instead 
of ten per cent, frees him from the necessity of paying you any 
salary." 

“ Surely the laborer is worthy of his hire," said Mrs. Lid- 
dell. 


58 


A CJROOKED PATH. 


44 No doubt of it, madame; but the case is a peculiar one. " 

Some more particulars were discussed and arranged; Mr. 
Newton begged Mrs. Liddell to look out for and select a serv- 
ant, that Katherine might begin with some prospect of com- 
fort. It was settled that an interview should be arranged be- 
tween Mrs. Liddell and her brother-in-law on the day but one 
following, at which Mr. Newton was to assist. Finally she 
signed a paper, and received six lovely new crisp bank-notes, 
the magic touch of which has so marvelously reviving an 
effect. 

Katherine slipped her arm through her mother's and pressed 
it lovingly as they walked to the Metropolitan station for their 
return journey. 4 4 Now, dear, you will have a little peace/' 
she said. 

44 Dear-bought peace, my darling. I can not reconcile my- 
self to such a fate for you. " 

4 ‘ Still, the money is a comfort." 

44 It is, indeed. I will pay the rent to-day, and to-morrow 
I will give Ada her money. That will be an infinite relief. 
And still 1 shall have a few pounds left. Katie dear, is it not 
too dreadful, the prospect of eating, drinking, sleeping, and 
beginning di nuovo each morning in that gloomy house? 
How shall you bear it?" 

44 You shall see. If I can have a little chat with you every 
week I shall be able for a good deal. Then, remember, the 
book still remains. When that succeeds we may snap our 
fingers at rich uncles." 

44 When that time comes," interrupted her mother, 44 you 
will be tied to the poor old miser by habit and the subtle claims 
which pity and comprehension weave round the sympathetic." 

4fc Oh, if I ever grow to like him it will simplify matters very 
much. I almost hope I may, but it is not likely. How 
strange it will be to live in a different house from you! How 
dreadfully the boys will tease you when I am away! Come; 
suppose we go and see the 4 Cheerful Visitor ' — the editor, I 
mean — before we return, and then we can say we have been 
to a publisher. 1 really do not think Ada knows the difference 
between an editor and a publisher." 

44 Very likely; nor would you, probably, if you had not a 
mother who scribbles weak fiction." 

44 It is a great deal better than much that is published and 
paid for," said Katherine, emphatically. 

44 Ah! Kate, when money has long been scarce you get into 
a bad habit of estimating things merely at their market value. 
However, let us visit the 4 Cheerful Visitor ' on our homeward 


A CKOOKED PATH. 59 

way. Of course we must tell Ada of the impending change, 
but we need not explain too much.” 

The journey back was less silent. Both mother and daugh- 
ter were oppressed by the task undertaken by the latter. But 
Katherine was successful in concealing the dismay with which 
she contemplated a residence with John Liddell. 44 Whatever 
happens, 1 must not seem afraid of him or be afraid of him,” 
she thought, with instinctive perception. 44 I will try to do 
what is just and right, and leave the rest to Providence. It 
must be a great comfort to have faith — to believe that if you 
do the right thing you will be directed and assisted by God. 
What strength it would give! But I haven't faith. I can 
not believe that natural laws will ever be changed for me, and 
I know that good, honest, industrious creatures die of hunger 
every day. No matter. 4 Do rightly, come what may/ is the 
motto of every true soul. I don't suppose I shall melt this 
old man's stony heart, but 1 will do my best for him. His 
has been a miserable life in spite of his money. There is so 
much money can not buy!'' 

44 How dreadfully late you are!” said Mrs. Frederic, queru- 
lously, when they reached home. 44 1 really could not keep 
the children waiting for you, so we have finished dinner; but 
Maria is keeping the mutton as hot as she can for you. Dear 
me! how sick I am of roast mutton! but I suppose it is 
cheap '' — contemptuously. 

44 Poor dear! you shall have something nice to-morrow,” 
returned Mrs. Liddell, with her usual strong good temper. 

44 1 suppose you are too tired, Katherine, to come with me. 
The band plays in Kensington Gardens to-day, and I wanted 
so much to go and hear it.” 

44 1 am indeed! Besides, mother has a great deal to tell you 
when we have had some dinner.” 

44 Oh, indeed! Has your book been accepted, Mrs. Liddell? 
or has that terrible uncle of ours declared Katherine to be his 
heiress?” 

44 Have a little patience, and you shall hear everything.” 

44 1 am dying of curiosity and impatience. Here, Sarah, do 
bring up dinner — Mrs. Liddell is so hungry!” 

The announcement that Katherine was invited to live with 
John Liddell created a tornado of amazement, envy, anticipa- 
tion — with an under-current of exultant pride that they were 
at last recognized by the only rich man in the family — in the 
mind of the pretty, impressionable little widow. 

44 Gracious! What a grand thing for Kate! But she will 
be moped to death, and he will starve her. Why, Katherine, 


60 


A CROOKED PATH. 


when it is known that a millionaire has adopted you his den 
will be besieged by your admirers. I should not be surprised 
if Colonel Ormonde declared himself. You will never be able 
to stand such a life for long at a time. Suppose I relieve 
guard every fortnight? You must let me have my innings 
too. Old gentlemen always like me, I am so cheerful. Then 
I might have the boys to see him; you know he ought to divide 
the property between us. ** 

“ Of course he ought. I wish he would have us alternately; 
it would be a great relief/* said Katherine, laughing. 

“ I fancy he is /w-mensely rich/* continued Ada. “ Why, 
Mr. Errington evidently knew his name.** 

“ Who is Mr. Errington?** asked Mrs. Liddell, with lan- 
guid curiosity. 

“ Did you never hear of the Calcutta Erringtons?** cried 
Ada, with infinite superiority. 66 They are as rich as Jews, 
and one of the greatest houses in India. Old Mr. Errington 
bought a fine place in the country lately, and this young man 
— l*m sure 1 don*t know if he is young; he is as grave as a 
judge and as stiff as a poker — at all events he is an only son. 
I met him at the Burnetts* yesterday. Well, he seemed to 
know Mr. Liddell’s name quite well. Colonel Ormonde pricked 
up his ears too when I said you had gone to see him. It is a 
great advantage to have a rich old bachelor uncle, Katherine, 
but you must not keep him all to yourself.** 

The next few days were agitated and much occupied. 
Katherine went for part of each to read and write and market 
for the old recluse, and he grew less formidable, but not more 
likable, as he became more familiar. He was an extraordi- 
nary example of a human being converted into a money-mak- 
ing and accumulating machine. He was not especially irri- 
table; indeed, his physical powers were weak and dying of every 
species of starvation; but his coldness was supernatural. Fort- 
unately for Katherine, his former housekeeper was greedy and 
extravagant, so that his niece*s management seemed wise and 
economical, and she had an excellent backer-up in Mr. New- 
ton. 

The old miser was with difficulty persuaded to see his sister- 
in-law; but Mrs. Liddell insisted on an interview, and Mr. 
Newton himself supported her through the trying ordeal. 

The mother’s heart sunk within her at the sight of the 
gloomy, desolate abode in which her bright daughter was to 
be immured; but she comforted herself by reflecting that it 
need not be for long. 


A CROOKED PATH. 


61 


Mr. Liddell did not rise from the easy-chair in which he sat 
crouched together, his thin gray locks escaping as usual from 
under the skull-cap, his long, lean, brown hands grasping the 
arms of his chair, when Mrs. Liddell came in; neither did he 
hold out his hand. He looked at her fixedly with his glitter- 
ing, dark eyes. 

“ You wanted to see me?” he said. “ Why?” 

“ Because I thought it right to see and speak with you be- 
fore committing my only child to your keeping.” 

“ But you have done it. She has agreed to the conditions, 
hasn’t she?” turning to Newton. “If you go back, I must 
have my money back. ” 

“ Of course, my dear sir — of course,” soothingly. 

“ I am glad that Katherine can be of use to you. I do not 
wish to retract anything I have agreed to, but I wish to remind 
you that my child is young; that you must let her go in and 
out, and have opportunities for air and exercise. ” 

“ She may do as she likes; she can do anything. So long 
as she reads to me, and buys my food without wasting my 
money, / don’t want her company. She seems to know some- 
thing of the value of money, and I’ll keep her in pledge till 
you have paid me. I’ll never let myself be cheated again, as 
I was by your worthless husband.” 

“Let the dead rest,” said Mrs. Liddell, sadly. “I have 
paid you what I could.” 

“ Ay, the principal — the bare principal. What is that? 
Do men lend for the love of lending?” he returned, viciously. 

“ Pray do not vex yourself. It is useless to look back — an- 
noying and useless,” said the lawyer, with decision. 

“ Useless, indeed! What more have you to say?” 

“ I should like to see the room my daughter is to occupy. 
It is as well she should have the comforts necessary to health, 
for all our sakes. You will not find one who will serve you as 
Katherine can, even for a high price. I think you feel this 
yourself,” said Mrs. Liddell, steadily. 

“ You may go where you like, but do not trouble me. You 
can come and see your daughter, but 1 shall not want to see 
you; and she may go and see you of a Sunday, when there are 
no newspapers to be read; but, mark you, I will not pay for 
carriages or horses or omnibuses; and mark also that I have 
made my will, and I’ll not alter it in any one’s favor. Your 
daughter will have her food and lodging and my countenance 
and protection. ” 

“ She has done without these for nineteen years,” said Mrs. 
Liddell, with a slight smile. “ But you have given me very 


62 


A CKOOKED PATH. 


opportune help, for which I am grateful; so I have accepted 
your terms. Kate shall stay with you till I have paid you 
principal and interest, and then I warn you I shall reclaim my 
hostage. ” 

She’ll be a good while with me,” he said, with a sneer. 
“ None of you — you, your husband, or your son — ever had 
thirty pounds to spare in your lives.” 

“ Time will show,” returned Mrs. Liddell, with admirable 
steadiness and temper. “ Now I will bid you good -day, and 
take advantage of your permission to look over your house.” 

“ Let me show you the way,” said Newton. “ I shall re- 
turn to you presently, Mr. Liddell.” 

The old man bent his head. “ See that the girl comes to- 
morrow,” he said, and leaned back wearily in his chair. 

The friendly lawyer led the way upstairs, and showed Mrs. 
Liddell a large room, half bed, half sitting, with plenty of 
heavy old-fashioned furniture. “ This was, I think, the draw- 
ing-room,” said Mr. Newton; “ and having extracted permis- 
sion from my very peculiar client to have the house cleaned, 
so far as it could be done, which it sorely needed, the person I 
employed selected the best of the furniture for this room. 
We propose to give the next room at the back to the servant. 
You have, I believe, found one?” 

“ Yes, a respectable elderly woman, of whom I have had an 
excellent character.” 

After Mrs. Liddell had visited the rooms upstairs — mere 
dismantled receptacles of rubbish — and they returned to what 
was to be Katherine’s abode, she sat down on the ponderous 
sofa, and in spite of her efforts to control herself the tears 
would well up and roll over. 

“ I feel quite ashamed of myself,” she said, in a broken 
voice; “ but when I think of my Katie here alone, with that 
cruel old man, it is too much for my strength. She has been 
so tenderly reared, her life, though quiet and humble, has 
been so cared for, so tranquil, that I shrink from the idea of 
her banishment here.” 

“ It is not unnatural, my dear madame, but indeed the trial 
is worth enduring. Do not believe that the will of which Mr. 
Liddell speaks is irrevocable. He has made two or three to 
my certain knowledge, and it would be foolish to cut your 
daughter off from any chance of sharing his fortune, which is 
considerable, 1 assure you, merely to avoid a little present an- 
noyance.” 

<c It would indeed. Do not think me very weak. It is a 
passing lit of the dolefuls. I have had much anxiety of late. 










^ 


A C HOOKED PATH. 


G3 


and for the moment I have a painful feeling that I have sold 
myself and my dear daughter into the hands of a relentless 
creditor; that I shall never free my neck from his yoke. I 
shall probably feel differently to-morrow.” 

“ I dare say you will. You are a lady of much imagination; 
a writer, your daughter tells me. Such an occupation should 
be an outlet for all imaginative terrors or anticipations, and 
leave your mind, your judgment, clear and free. I am sure 
Miss Liddell will do her uncle and herself good by her resi- 
dence here. Mr. Liddell has been a source of anxiety to me 
and to my partners. We have, you know, been his legal ad- 
visers for years, and to know that he is in good hands will be 
a great relief. Rely on my — on our doing our best to assist 
your daughter in every way. '' 

Mrs. Liddell, perceiving the friendly spirit which actuated 
the precise lawyer, thanked him warmly, and after a little 
further discussion of details, took her way home. 

From the step she had voluntarily taken there was no re- 
treat, nor, to do her justice, was Katherine Liddell in the least 
disposed to turn back, having once put her hand to the plow. 
Indeed, the blessed castle-building powers of youth disposed 
her to rear airy edifices as regarded the future, which lightened 
the present gioom. Suppose John Liddell were to soften to- 
ward her, and make her a handsome present occasionally, or 
forgive this debt to her mother? What a delightful reward 
this would be for her temporary servitude? But though 
Katherine readily amused herself with such fancies, they never 
crystallized into hope. Hope still played round her mother's 
chance of success with the publishers. Not that she fancied 
her dear mother a genius; on the contrary, because she tvas 
her mother, she probably undervalued her work; but she 
knew that hundreds of stories printed and paid for lacked the 
common sense and humor of Mrs. Liddell's. 

How ardently she longed to give her mother something of a 
rest after the burden and heat of the day, which she had 
borne so well and so long — a spell of peaceful twilight before 
the gray shadows of everlasting darkness closed, or the bright- 
ness of eternal light broke upon her! Yes, she would stand 
four-square against the steely terrors of John Liddell's cold 
egotism and penuriousness, against the desolation and gloom 
of his forbidding abode, the crushing sordidness of an existence 
reduced to the merest straws of sustenance, provided she could 
lighten her mother’s load — perhaps secure her future ease; 
and she would do her task well, thoroughly, keeping a steady 
heart and a bright face. Then should the tide ever turn, 


64 


A CROOKED PATH. 


what deep draughts of pleasure she would drink! Katherine 
was not socially ambitious; finery and grandeur as such did 
not attract her; but real joys, beauty, andgayety, the company 
of pleasant people, i. e . , people who suited her , graceful sur- 
roundings, becoming clothes, and plenty of them, all were dear 
and delightful to her. 

Some of these things she had tasted when she lived with her 
mother in the German and Italian towns where she had been 
chiefly educated; the rest she was satisfied to imagine. Above 
all, she loved to charm those with whom she associated — loved 
it in a half-unconscious way. Were ifc to a poor blind beggar 
woman, or a little crossing-sweeper, she would speak as gently 
and modulate her voice as carefully as to the most brilliant 
partner or the greatest lady. This might be tenderness of 
nature, or the profound instinct to win liking and admiration. 
As yet it was quite instinctive; but if hurt or offended she 
could feel resentment very vividly, and was by no means too 
ready to forgive. 

Unfortunately she started with a strong prejudice against 
her uncle, and sometimes rehearsed in her own mind exceed- 
ingly fine speeches which she would have liked to address to 
her miserly relative on the subject of his cruelty to his son, 
his avarice, his egotism. 

Still a strain of pity ran through her meditations. Was life 
worth living, spent as his was? How far had his nature been 
warped by his wife’s desertion? 

It was an extraordinary experience to Katherine, this pack- 
ing up of her belongings to quit her home. She took as little 
as she could help, to keep up the idea that she was entering 
on a very temporary engagement; besides, as she meant to 
adhere rigidly to her right of a weekly visit to her mother, she 
could always get what she wanted. 

After Mrs. Liddell, Katherine found it hardest to part with 
the boys, specially little Charlie, whose guardian and cham- 
pion she had constituted herself. Her sister-in-law had rather 
an irritating effect upon her, of which she was a little ashamed, 
and whenever she had spoken sharply, which she did occasion- 
ally, she was ready to atone for it by doing some extra service, 
so that, on the whole, the pretty little widow got a good deal 
more out of her sister than out of her mother-in-law. 

But meditations, resolutions, regrets, and preparations not- 
withstanding, the day of Katherine’s departure arrived. It 
was a bright, glowing afternoon, and the Thursday fixed for 
the boating-j>arty. Mrs. Liddell junior had expended much 
eloquence to no purpose, as she well knew it would be, in try- 


A CROOKED PATH. 


65 


ing to persuade her sister-in-law to postpone the commence- 
ment of what the little widow was pleased to call her 44 penal 
servitude,” and accompany her to Twickenham. 

She departed, however, without her, looking her very best, 
and uttering many promises to come and see Katie soon, to try 
her powers of pleasing on that dreadful old uncle of ours, to 
bring the dear boys, and see if they would not cut out their 
auntie, etc. 

Mrs. Liddell and her daughter were most thankful to have 
the last few hours together, and yet they said little, and that 
chiefly respecting past days which they had enjoyed together 
— little excursions on the Elbe or in the neighborhood of Flor- 
ence; a couple of months once passed at Sienna, which was a 
mental epoch to Katherine, who was then about fifteen; 
promises to write; and tender queries on the mother’s side if 
she had remembered this or that. 

The little boys clung to her, Charlie in tears, Cecil very 
solemn. Both had taken up the sort of camera-obscura image 
of their elders’ views which children contrive to obtain so mys- 
teriously without hearing anything distinct concerning them, 
and both considered 46 Uncle John ” a sort of modern ogre, 
only restrained by the policeman outside from making a daily 
meal of the nearest infant school, and sure to gobble up auntie 
some day. Charlie trembled at the thought; Cecil pondered 
profoundly how, by the judicious arrangement of a trap-door 
in the middle of his room, he might carry out the original 
side of Jack the Giant-Killer. 

44 Pray don’t think of coming with me, mother,” said 
Katherine, seeing Mrs. Liddell take out her bonnet. 44 1 
could not bear to think of your lonely drive back. Trust me 
to myself. I am not going to be either frightened or cast 
down, and I will write to-morrow.” 

“Then I must let you go, darling! On Sunday next, 
Katie, we shall' see you.” 

A long, fond embrace, and Mrs. Liddell was indeed alone. 


CHAPTER VI. 

44 SHIFTING SCENES.” 

Parting is often worst to those who stay behind. Imagi- 
nation paints the trials and difficulties of the one who has put 
out to sea as far worse than the reality, while variety arid 
action brace the spirit of him who goes forth. 

Katherine’s reception, however, was jiaralyzing enough. 

Nothing was in her favor save the mellow brightness of the 


66 


A CROOKED PATH. 


fine warm evening, though from its south-east aspect the parlor 
at Legrave Orescent was already in shadow. There, in his 
usual seat beside the fire — for, though a miser, John Liddell 
had a fire summer and winter — sat the old man watching the 
embers, in himself a living refrigerator. 

“You are late!” was his greeting, in a low, cold voice. 
“ I have been expecting you. The woman Newton found for 
me has been up and down with a dozen questions I can not 
answer. I must be saved from this; I will not be disturbed. 
Go and see what she wants; then, if there is more food to be 
cooked, come to me for money. Mark! no more bills. I will 
give you what cash you want each day, so long as you do not 
ask too much. ” 

“ Very well. Your fire wants making up, uncle.” She 
brought out this last word with an effort. “ I suppose I am 
to call you uncle?” 

“ Call me what you choose,” was the ungracious reply. 

In the hall she found the new servant, whom she had already 
seen, waiting her orders. She was a stout, good-humored 
woman of a certain age, with vast experience, gathered in 
many services, and partly tempted to her present engagement 
bv the hope that in so small a household her labor would be 
light. 

“ Will you come up, miss, and see if your room is as you 
like it?” was her first address. “ I'm sure I am glad you 
have come! I've been groping in the dark, in a manner of 
speaking, since I came yesterday; and Mr. Liddell, he's not 
to be spoke to. Believe me, miss, if it wasn't that I promised 
your mar, and saw you was r, nice young lady yourself, wild 
horses wouldn't keep me in such a lonesome barrack of a 
place!” 

tfc I hope you will not desert us, Mrs. Knapp,” returned 
Katherine, cheerfully. ‘ ‘ If you and I do our best, I hope the 
place will not be so bad. ” 

“ Well, it didn't ought to,” returned Mrs. Knapp. 
“ There's lots of good furniture everywhere but in the kitchen, 
and that's just for all the world like a marine store!” 

“ Is it?” exclaimed Katherine, greatly puzzled by the 
metaphor. 66 At all events, you have made my room nice and 
tidy.” This conversation, commenced on the staircase, was 
continued in Katherine's apartment. 

“ It ain't bad, miss; there's plenty of room for your clothes 
in that big wardrobe, and there's a chest of drawers; but Lord, 
'm, they smell that musty, I've stood them open all last night 
and this morning^ but they ain't much the better. I didn't 


A CROOKED PATH. 


67 


like to ask for the key of the book-case, but I can see, through 
the glass the books are just coated with dust,” said Mrs. 
Knapp. 

“Ve must manage all that by and by,” said Katherine. 
“ Have you anything in the house? I suppose my uncle will 
want some dinner.” 

I gave him a filleted sole with white sauce, and a custard 
pudding, at two o'clock, and he said he wanted nothing more. 
1 had no end of trouble in getting half a crown out of him, 
and he had the change. If the gentleman as 1 saw with your 
mar, miss, hadn't given me five shillings, I don't know where 
I should be.” 

“ I will ask my uncle what he would like for dinner or sup- 
per, and come to you in the kitchen afterward.” 

Such was Katherine's inauguration*. 

She soon found ample occupation. Not a day passed with- 
out a battle over pennies and half-pennies. Liddell gave her 
each morning a small sum wherewith to go to market; he ex- 
pected her to return straight to him and account rigidly for 
every farthing she had laid out, to enter all in a book which 
he kept, and to give him the exact change. These early ex- 
peditions into the fresh air among the busy, friendly shop- 
keepers soon came to be the best bit of Katherine's day, and 
most useful in keeping up the healthy tone of her mind. 
Then came a spell of reading from the “ Times” and other 
papers. Every word connected with the funds and money 
matters generally, even such morsels of politics as affected the 
pulse of finance, was eagerly listened to; of other topics Mr. 
Liddell did not care to hear. A few letters to solicitor or 
stock-broker, some entries in a general account-book, and the 
forenoon was gone. Friends, interests, regard for life in any 
of its various aspects, all were non-existent lor Liddell. Money 
was his only thought, his sole aspiration — to accumulate, for 
no object. This miserliness had grown upon him since he 
had lost both wife and son. Fortunately for Katherine, his 
ideas of expenditure had been fixed by the comparatively liberal 
standard of his late cook. When, therefore, he found he had 
greater comfort at slightly less cost he was satisfied. 

But his satisfaction did not prompt him to express it. His 
nearest approach to approval was not finding fault. 

In vain Katherine endeavored to interest him in some of the 
subjects treated of in the papers. He was deaf to every topic 
that did not bear on his self-interest. 

44 There is a curious account here of the state of labor in 
Manchester and Birmingham; shall I read it to you?” asked 


68 A CROOKED PATH. 

Katherine, one morning, after she had toiled through the share 
list and city article. She had been about a fortnight installed 
in her uncle's house. 

44 No!" he returned; 44 what is labor to me? We have each 
our own work to do. " 

44 But is there nothing else you would care to hear, uncle?" 
She had grown more accustomed to him, and he to her; in 
spite of herself, she was anxious to cheer his dull days — to 
awaken something of human feeling in the old automaton. 

44 Nothing! Why should I care for what does not concern 
me? You only care for what touches yourself; but because 
you are young, and your blood runs q uick, many things touch 
you . 99 

44 ’Did you ever care for anything except — except — 99 Kath- 
erine pulled herself up. * The words 44 your money" were on 
her lips. 

44 1 can not remember, and I do not wish to look back. I 
suppose, now, you would like to be driving about in a fine 
carriage, with a bonnet and feathers on your head. 1 suppose 
you are wishing me dead, and yourself free to run away from 
your daily tasks in this quiet house, to listen to the lying 
tongue of some soft-spoken scoundrel, as foolish women will; 
but the longer I live the better for you , till your mother's 
debt is paid, or my executors will give her a short shrift and 
scant time." 

44 1 don't want you to die. Uncle Liddell," said Katherine, 
with simple sincerity, 44 but I wish there was anything I could 
do to interest you or amuse you. I am sorry to see you so 
dull. Why, you are obliged to sleep all the afternoon!" 

44 Amuse me? 99 he returned, with infinite scorn. 44 You 
need not trouble yourself. I have thoughts which occupy me 
of which you have no idea, and then I pass from thoughts to 
dreams — grand dreams!" — he paused for a moment. 44 Where 
is that pile of papers that lay on the chair there?" he re- 
sumed, sharply. 

44 1 have taken them away upstairs; when I have collected 
some more I am going to sell them. My mother always sells 
her waste paper — one may as well have a few pence for them . 99 

44 Did your mother say so?" with some animation — then 
another pause. 44 Are you going to see her on Sunday?" 

44 Not next Sunday," returned Katherine, quite pleased to 
draw him into conversation. 44 You know we must let Mrs: 
Knapp go out every alternate Sunday, and you can not be . 
left alone." 


A CROOKED PATH. 


69 


44 Why not? Am I an imbecile? Am I dying? I can tell 
you I have years of life before me yet.” 

64 1 dare say; still, it is my duty to stay here in case you 
want anything. But I shall go home on Saturday afternoon 
instead, if you have no objection. ” 

44 You would not heed my objections ii I had any. You are 
self-willed, you are resolute. I see things when I care to look. 
There, I am very tired! You will find some newspapers in my 
room; you can add them to the others. How soon will dinner 
be ready?” Katherine felt herself dismissed. 

The afternoons were much at her own disposal; and as she 
found a number of old books, some of which greatly interested 
her, she managed to accomplish a good deal of reading, and 
even did a little dreaming. Still, though time seemed to go 
so slowly, the weeks, on looking back, had flown fast. 

The monotony was terrible; but a break was at hand which 
was not quite unexpected. 

The day following the above conversation, Katherine had 
retired as usual after dinner to write to a German friend with 
whom she kept up a desultory correspondence; the day was 
warm, and her door being open, the unwonted sound of the 
front door bell startled her. 

44 Who could it possibly be?” asked Katherine of herself. 
The next minute a familiar voice struck her ear, and she 
quickly descended to the front parlor. 

There an appalling sight met her eyes. In the center of the 
room, her back to the door, stood Mrs. Frederic Liddell, a 
little boy in either hand — all three most carefully attired in 
their best garments, and making quite a pretty group. 

Facing them, Mr. Liddell sat upright in his chair, his lean, 
claw-like hands grasping the arms, his eyes full of fierce as- 
tonishment. 

44 You see, my dear sir, as you have never invited me, I 
have ventured to come unasked to make your acquaintance, 
and to introduce my dear boys to you; for it is possible you 
have sent me a message by Katherine which she has forgotten 
to deliver; so I thought — ” Thus far the pretty little widow 
had proceeded when the children, catching sight of their 
auntie, sprung upon her with a cry of delight. 

44 Who — who is this?” asked Mr. Liddell, compressing his 
thin lips and hissing out the words. 

44 My brother's widow, Mrs. Fred Liddell,” returned Kath- 
erine, who was kissing and fondling her nephews. 

44 Did you invite her to come here?” 

“ No, uncle.” 


70 


A CROOKED PATH. 


“ Then explain to her that I do not receive visitors, espe- 
cially relations who have no claims upon me, and — and I par- 
ticularly object to children. ” 

66 1 shall take my sister-in-law to my room for a little rest,” 
returned Katherine, wounded by his manner, though greatly 
vexed with Ada for coming. 

“ Ay, do, anywhere you like.” 

But Mrs. Fred made a gallant attempt to stand her ground. 

“ My dear sir, you must not be so unkind as to turn me out, 
when I have taken the trouble to come all this way on purpose 
to make your acquaintance. Let Katherine take away the 
children by all means — some people are worried with children; 
but let me stay and have a little talk with you.” 

Mr. Liddell’s only reply was to rise up. Gaunt, bent, his 
gray locks quivering with annoyance, and leaning on his stick, 
he slowly walked to the door, his eyes fixed with a cold glare 
on the intruder. At the door he turned, and addressing 
Katherine, said, “ Let me know when she is gone,” then he 
disappeared into the hall. 

Little Charlie burst into tears. Cecil cried out: “ You are 
a nasty, cross old man;” while Mrs. Fred grew very red, and 
exclaimed: “ I never saw such a bear in all my life! Why, a 
crossing-sweeper would have better manners! I am astonished 
at you, Katie. How can you live with such a creature? But 
some people would do anything for money.” 

“ I am dreadfully sorry,” said Katherine; “ do come up to 
my room. If you had only told me you were coming, I should 
have advised you against it. You must rest awhile in my 
room. ” 

“ I really do not think I will sit down in this house after 
the way in which I have been treated,” said the irate widow, 
while she followed her sister-in-law upstairs. 

“ Oh, yes, do, mammy; I want to see the house,” implored 
Cecil. 

“ Why did you not tell me what a dreadful man he is, 
Katherine, and I should not have put myself in the way of be- 
ing insulted?” 

64 1 think I told you enough to keep you away, Ada. What 
put it into your head to come?” 

“ I scarcely know. I always intended it, and Colonel Or- 
monde said it was my duty to let him, Mr. Liddell, see the 
boys. I really did not want to come.” 

fc< I wish Colonel Ormonde would mind his own affairs,” 
cried Katherine. “ I fancy he only talks for talking’s sake.” 

“ That is all you know,” indignantly; 4 6 he is a very clever 




A CROOKED PATH. 71 

man of the world, and I am fortunate in having such a friend 
to interest himself in me.” 

“ Oh, well, perhaps so. At all events, I am very glad to 
see the boys, and — you too, Ada. Charlie is very pale. Come 
here, Charlie.” 

“ Oh, auntie, is this your own, own room? Does the cross 
old man ever come here? Are all those books yours — and the 
funny little table with the crooked legs? Who is the man in 
a wig?” cried Cecil. “ Mightn't we stay with you? we would 
be so quiet. Mother says we are dreffully troublesome since 
you went away. We could both sleep with you in that great 
big bed! The cross old gentleman would never know. It 
would be such fun! Do, do, do let us stay, auntie!” 

“But 1 am afraid of the old gentleman,” whispered the 
younger boy. “ Does he ever hurt you, auntie dear? I wish 
you would come home.” 

“ Charlie is such a coward,” said Cecil, with contempt. 

“ Don't talk nonsense, children,” exclaimed their mother, 
peremptorily. “ I should die of fright if I thought you were 
left behind with that ogre. 1 wouldn't sacrifice my children 
for the sake of filthy lucre.” 

“ Do not talk nonsense, Ada!” said Katherine, impatiently. 
“ I am infinitely distressed that my uncle should have behaved 
so rudely, but he is really eccentric, and if you had con- 
sulted — ” 

“ He is the boys' uncle as well as yours,'' interrupted Ada, 
indignantly. “ Why should they not come and see him? 
How was I to suppose he was such an unnatural monster?” 

“ I always told you he was very peculiar.” 

“ Peculiar! that is a delicate way of putting it. If 1 were 
you, 1 should be ashamed of wasting my time and my youth 
acting servant to an old miser who will not leave you a sou!” 

“ No, I don't suppose he will,” returned Katherine, quietly. 
“ Still, I am not the least ashamed of what I am doing; 1 am 
quite satisfied with my own motives.” 

“ Oh, you are always satisfied with yourself, I know,'' was 
the angry answer. “ But ” — with a slight change of tone — 
“ I am sorry to see you look so pale and ill, though you de- 
serve it. ” 

“Never mind, Ada. Take off your bonnet and sit down. 
I will get you a cup. of tea. ” 

“ Tea! no, certainly not! Do you think me so mean as to 
taste a mouthful of food in this house after being ordered out 
of it?” 

“ Oh, 1 am so hungry!” cried Cecil, in mournful tones. 


72 


A CROOKED PATH. 


44 You are a little cormorant. Grannie will give you nice 
tea when we get home. Put on your gloves, children, I shall 
go at once.” 

44 Do come back with us, auntie,” implored the boys. 
44 Grannie wants you ever so much.” 

44 Not more than I want her,” returned Katherine. 44 How 
is she, Ada?” 

“ Oh, very well; just the same as usual. People who are 
not sensitive have a great deal to be thankful for. I feel quite 
upset by this encounter with your amiable relative, so I will 
say good-bye. ” 

44 Oh, wait for me; I will come wfith you. Let me put on 
my hat and tell Mr. Liddell I am going out.” 

44 Of course you must ask the master’s leave!” 

44 Exactly,” returned Katherine, good-humoredly. And she 
put on her hat and gloves. 

44 Well, I shall be glad of your guidance, for 1 hardly know 
my way back to where the omnibus starts. Such a horrible 
low part of the town for a man of fortune to live in! I won- 
der what Colonel Ormonde would say to it?” 

44 I am sure I don^t know,” returned Kate, laughing. 
44 Now come down-stairs. If you go on I will speak to my 
uncle, and follow you.” 

44 I am sorry you have been annoyed,” said Katherine, 
when, having tapped at the door, Mr. Liddell desired her to 
44 come in.” He was standing at an old-fashioned bureau, the 
front of which let down to form a writing-desk and inclosed a 
number of various-sized drawers. He had taken out several 
packets of papers neatly tied with red tape and seemed to be 
rearranging them. 

44 1 am going to take my sister-in-law back to the omnibus; 
you may be sure she will never intrude again. ” 

44 She shall not,” he replied, turning to face her. Kather- 
ine thought how ghastly pale and pinched he looked. 44 1 see 
the sort of creature she is — a doll that would sell her sawdust 
soul for finery and glitter; ay, and the lives of alLwho belong 
to her for an hour of pleasure. ” 

Katherine was shocked at his fierce, uncalled-for bitterness. 

44 She has lira! with us for more than a year and a half, 
and we have found her very pleasant and kind. Her children 
are dear, sweet things. You should not judge her so harshly. ” 

44 You are a greater fool than 1 took you for,” cried Mr. 
Liddell. 44 Go take them away, and mind they do not come 
back.” 

Katherine hastened after her visitors and led them h n 


A CROOKED PATH. 


73 


more direct route than they had traversed in coming. It took 
them past a cake-shop, where she spent one of her few six- 
pences in appeasing her nephews’ appetite, which, at least with 
Cecil, grew with what it fed upon, in the matter of cakes. 

The children, each holding one of her hands, chattered away, 
telling many particulars of grannie and Jane, and the cat, to 
say nothing of a most interesting gardener who came to cut 
the grass. To all of which Katherine lent a willing ear. 
How ardently she longed to be at home with the dear mother 
again! She had never done half enough for her. Ah, if they 
only could be together again in Florence or Dresden as they 
used to be! 

Mrs. Fred Liddell kept almost complete silence — a very un- 
usual case with her — and only as she paused before following 
her little boys into the omnibus did she give any clew to the 
current of her thoughts. “ Should Colonel Ormonde come on 
Saturday when you are with us — which is not likely — do not 
say anything about that horrid old man’s rudeness; one does 
not like to confess to being turned out. ” 

“ Certainly not. I shall say nothing, you may be sure.” 

u Good-bye, then. I shall tell your mother you are look- 
ing ivretchedly .” 

“ Pray do not,” cried Katherine, but the Conductor’s loud 
stamping on his perch to start the driver drowned her voice. 

It was a fine evening, fresh, too, with a slight crispness, and 
Katherine could not resist the temptation of a walk in Regent’s 
Park. She felt her spirits, which had been greatly depressed, 
somewhat revived by the free air, the sight of grass and trees. 
Still she could not answer the question which often tormented 
her: “ If my mother can not sell her book, how will it all end? 
must I remain as a hostage forever?” It was a gloomy out- 
look. 

She did not allow herself to stray far; crossing the foot- 
bridge over the Regent’s Canal, she turned down a street 
which led by a circuit toward her abode. It skirted Primrose 
Hill for a few yards, and as she passed one of the gates ad- 
mitting to the path which crosses it, a gentleman came out, 
and after an instant’s hesitation raised his hat. Katherine 
recognized the man who had rescued Cecil at Hyde Park 
Corner. She smiled and bowed, frankly pleased to meet him 
again; it was so ref resiling to see a bright, kindly face — a face, 
too, that looked glad to see her. 

“ May I venture to inquire for my little friend?” said the 
gentleman, resjiectfully. 4 6 1 trust he was not the worse for 
his adventure?” 


74 


A CROOKED jPATH. 

“ Not at all, thanks to your promptness/* said Katherine, 
pausing. “ I have only just parted with him and his mother. 
She would have been very glad of an opportunity to thank 
you. ** 

“ So slight a service scarcely needs your thanks/* he said, 
in a soft, agreeable voice, as he turned and walked beside her. 

Katherine made no objection; she knew he was an acquaint- 
ance of Colonel Ormonde, and it was too pleasant a chance of 
speaking to a civilized human being to be lost. Her new 
acquaintance was good-looking without being handsome, with 
a peculiarly happy expression, and honest, kindly light-brown 
eyes. He was about the middle height, but well set up, and 
carried himself like a soldier. 

“ Then your little charge does not live with you?** he 
asked. 

“ Not now. I am staying with my uncle. Cecil lives with 
his mother and mine at Bayswater. ** 

“ Indeed! I think my old friend. Colonel Ormonde, knows 
the young gentleman*s mother. ** 

“ He does.** 

“ Then, may I introduce myself to you? My name is Payne 
— Gilbert Payne.** 

“ Oh, indeed!** returned Katherine, with a vague idea that 
she'ought not perhaps to walk with him, yet by no means in- 
clined to dismiss a pleasant companion. 

“ I fancy your young nephew is a somewhat rebellious sub- 
ject.*’ 

“He is sometimes very troublesome, but you can not help 
liking him.** 

“ Exactly—a line boy. What bewildering little animals 
children are! They ought to teach us humility, they under- 
stand us so much better than we understand them.** 

“I believe they do, but I never thought of it before. Have 
you little brothers and sisters who have taught you this?** 

“ No. I am the youngest of my family; but 1 am inter- 
ested in a refuge for street children, and I learn much there.** 
“ That is very good of you/* said Katherine, looking ear- 
nestly at him. “ Where is it — near this?** 

“ No; a long way off. There are plenty of such places in 
every direction. I have just come from a home for poor old 
women, childless widows, sickly spinsters, who can not work 
and have no one to work for them. If you have any spare 
time, it would be a great kindness to go and read to them now 
and then. The lees of such lives are often sad and tasteless. ** 
“I should be glad to help in any way/* said Katherine, 


A CROOKED PATH. 75 

coloring; “ but just now I belong (temporarily) to my uncle, 
who is old, and requires a good deal of reading — and care/ 7 

“ Ah, I see your work is cut out for you; that, of course, 
is your first duty. 77 

The conversation then flowed on easily about street arabs 
and the various missions for rescuing them, about soldiers 7 
homes, and other kindred topics. Katherine was much in- 
terested, and taken out of herself; she was quite sorry when 
on approaching Legrave Orescent she felt obliged to pause, 
with the intention of dismissing him. He understood. “ Do 
you live near this/ 7 he asked. 

“ Yes, quite near. 77 

“ May I bring you some papers giving you an account of 
my poor old women? 7 " 

44 1 should like so much to have them, 77 said Katherine. 
“ But my uncle is rather peculiar. He does not like to be 
disturbed; he does not like visitors; he was vexed because my 
sister-in-law and the children came to-day. 77 

“ I understand, and will not intrude. But should you be 
able and willing to help these undertakings. Colonel Ormonde 
will always know my address. He honors me still with his 
friendship, though he thinks me a moon- struck idiot. 77 

“ Because you are good. The folly is his, 77 said Katherine, 
warmly. Then she bowed, Mr. Payne lifted his hat again, and 
they parted, not to meet for many a day. 

When Mrs. Knapp opened the door she looked rather grave, 
but Katherine 7 s mind was so full of her encounter with Gil- 
bert Payne that she did not notice it, seeing which, Mrs. 
Knapp said, “ I 7 m glad you have come in, miss. 77 

“ Why? 77 with immediate apprehension. “ Is my uncle 
ill? 77 / 

“He is not right, miss. I took him up his cup of tea and 
slice of dry toast about five, and he was lying back, as he often 
does, asleep, as I thought, in the chair. 1 says, 4 Here 7 s your 
tea, sir, 7 but he made no answer, and I spoke again twice 
without making him hear; then I touched his hand; it was 
stone cold; so I got water and dabbed his brow, when he sat 
up all of a sudden, and swore at me for making him cold and 
damp with my — I don 7 t like to say the word — rags. Then he 
shivered and shook like an aspen; but 1 made up the fire and 
popped a spoonful of brandy in his tea; he never noticed. But 
he kept asking for you, miss. I think he doesn 7 t know he 
was bad. 77 

Katherine hastened to her uncle, greatly distressed at having 
been absent at the moment of need. In her eagerness she 


76 


A CROOKED PATH. 


committed the mistake of asking how he felt now, and received 
a tart reply. There was nothing the matter with him, noth- 
ing unusual, only his old complaint, increasing years and in- 
firmity; still he was not fo be treated like a helpless baby. 

Katherine felt her error, and turned the subject; then, re- 
turning to it, begged him to see a doctor. This he refused 
sternly. Finally she had recourse to an article on the revenue 
in the paper, which -soothed him, and she saw the old man 
totter off to bed with extreme uneasiness, yet not daring to 
suggest a night light, so irritable did he seem. 

Before she slept she wrote a brief account of what had 
occurred to Mr. Newton, and implored him to come and re- 
monstrate with his client. 


- CHAPTER VII. 

THE BEGINNING OF THE END. 

Katherine Liddell had never spent so uneasy a night, 
save when her mother had been ill. Her nerves were on the 
stretch, her ears painfully watchful for the smallest sound. 
What if the desolate old man should pass away, alone and un- 
aided, in the darkness of night! The sense of responsibility 
was almost too much for her. If she could have her mother 
at her side she would fear nothing. She was up early, thank- 
ful to see daylight, and eager for Mrs. Knapp's report of her 
uncle. 

Generally the old man was afoot betimes, and despised the 
luxury of warm water. This morning Mrs. Knapp had to 
knock at his door, as he was not moving, and after a brief in- 
terview returned to inform Katherine that Mr. Liddell grum- 
bled at her for being up too earty, and on hearing that it was 
half past eight, said she had better bring him a cup of tea. 

Katherine carried it to him herself. He took very little 
notice of her, but said he would get up presently and hear the 
papers read. When she came back with some jelly, for which 
she had sent to the nearest confectioner, he eat it without com- 
ment, and told her she might go. 

It was a miserable morning, but about noon, to her great 
delight, she saw Mr. Newton opening the garden gate. She 
flew to admit him. 

“ 1 am so thankful you have come!" 

“ How is Mr. Liddell?" 

“ He seems quite himself this morning, except that he is in- 
clined to stay in bed. " 

“He must see a doctor," said Mr. Newton, speaking in a 


A CROOKED PATH. 


77 


low voice and turning into the parlor. “ We must try and 
keep him alive and in his senses for every reason. 1 am glad 
he is still in bed; it will give me an excuse for urging him to 
take advice, for of course I shall not nfkntion your note.” 

“ No, pray do not. He evidently does not like to be 
thought ill.” 

“ Pray, how long have you been here — nearly a month? 
Yes, I thought so. 1 can not compliment you on your looks. 
How do you think you have been getting on with our friend?” 

44 Not very well, I fear,” said Katherine, shaking her head. 
4 ‘ He rarely speaks to me, except to give some order or ask 
some necessary question. Yet he does not speak roughly or 
^crossly, as he does to Mrs. Knapp; and something 1 can not 
define in his voice, even in his cold eyes, tells me he is growing 
used to my presence, and that he does not dislike it.” 

“ Well, I should think not, Miss Liddell,” said the precise 
lawyer, politely. 44 I trust time may be given to him to recog- 
nize the claims of kindred and of merit. Pray ask him if he 
will see me, and in the meantime please send a note to Doc- 
tor Brown— a very respectable practitioner, who lives not far; 
ask him to come at once. I must persuade Mr. Liddell to 
see him, and if possible while 1 am present.” 

The old man showed no surprise at Mr. Newton^s presence; 
it was almost time for his monthly visit, and as he brought a 
small sum of money with him, the result of some minor pay- 
ments, he was very welcome. 

Katherine, immensely relieved, sat trying to work in the 
front parlor, but really watching for the doctor. Would her 
uncle see him? and if not, ought she still to undertake the re- 
sponsibility of such a charge? 

At last he arrived, a staid, thoughtful-looking man; and 
before he had time to do more than exchange a few words with 
her, Mr. Newton appeared and carried him oft' to see the 
patient. 

They seemed a long time gone; and when they returned the 
doctor wrote a prescription — a very simple tonic, he said. 
“ What your uncle needs. Miss Liddell,” he said, 64 is constant 
nourishment. He is exceedingly weak; the action of the heart 
is feeble, the whole system starved. You must get him to 
take all the food you can, and some good wine — Burgundy if 
possible. He had better get up. There is really no organic 
disease, but he is very low. He ought to have some one in his 
room at night.” 

“ It will be difficult to manage that,” said Mr. Newton. 


78 


A CROOKED PATH. 


44 I shall look in to-morrow about this time,” said th$ doc- 
tor, and hurried away. 

44 How have you contrived to make him hear reason?” asked 
Katherine, eagerly. 

44 I took the law into my own hands, for one thing, and I 
suggested a powerful motive for living on. I reminded him 
that he and another old gentleman are the only survivors of a 
6 Tontine/ and that he must try to outlive him. So the cost 
of doctor, medicine, etc., etc., ought to be considered as an 
investment. Do not fail to get him all possible nourishment. 
If he rebels, send for me.” 

44 I will indeed. I am almost afraid to stay here alone. 
Might I not have my mother with me?” 

4 4 Do not think of it ” — earnestly. 44 I was going to say 
that I believe you are decidedly gaining on your uncle; but the 
intrusion of Mrs. Frederic Liddell yesterday was very un- 
fortunate. My rather peculiar client is impressed with the 
idea that you invited her. ” 

44 Indeed I did not!” cried Katherine. 

44 I do not suppose you did, but her appearance seems to 
have given Mr. Liddell a shock.” Mr. Newton paused, and 
then asked in a slow tone, as if thinking hard, 44 What was 
your sister-in-law’s maiden name?” 

44 Sandford,” said Katherine. 

44 Sandford? That is rather a curious coincidence. The 
late Mrs. John Liddell was a Miss Sandford.” 

44 Is she dead, then?” 

44 Yes; she died eight or nine years ago.” 

44 Could they have been related?” 

44 Possibly. Some likeness seems to have struck your tmcle.” 

There was a short silence, and Mr. Newton resumed. 44 1 
trust you do not find your stay here too trying? I consider it 
very important that you should persevere, though it is only 
right to tell you that Mr. Liddell has made a will — not a just 
one, in my opinion — and it is extremely unlikely he will ever 
change it.” 

44 That does not really affect me. Of course 1 should be 
very glad if he chose to leave anything to my mother or my- 
self, but I shall do my best for him under any circumstances. 
Besides, I have a sort of desire to make him speak to me and 
like me — perhaps it is vanity — quite apart from a sense of 
duty. He is so like a frozen man!” 

4k Try, try by all means, my dear young lady.” 

44 What I do not like is the hour or half hour after market. 
The wolfish greed with which he clutches the change I bring 


A CROOKED PATH. 


79 


back,. the glare in his eyes, the fierce eagerness with which •he 
asks the price of everything — he is not human at such times, 
and I almost fear for him.” 

It is a dreadful picture, but perhaps the details may soften 
in time.” 

* “ How shall I get money for all he wants?” asked Kath- 
erine, anxiously. 

“ I shall impress upon Mr. Liddell the necessities of his case, 
and even make out that the good things he requires cost more 
than they do. I will beg him to allow me to supply the money 
during his indisposition and enter it in his account. Here, 1 
will give you five pounds while we are alone.” 

“ Thank you so much! You see I dare not get into debt. 
1 will keep a careful account of all expenditure, and ask him 
— my uncle, I mean — not to give me any money, then there 
will be no confusion. ” 

“ Very well. I will go back to him now. He will be 
almost ready to come in here. Write to me frequently. I 
shall try to look in to-morrow for a few minutes.” 

Katherine stirred the fire, and placed a threadbare footstool 
before the invalid's easy-chair, thanking Heaven in her heart 
for sending^her such an ally as the friendly lawyer. 

Then Mr. Liddell appeared, leaning on Newton's arm, and 
not looking much worse than usual, Katherine thought. He 
took no notice of her until she put the footstool under his feet; 
then, wonderful to relate, he looked down into her grave, 
kindly face and smiled, not bitterly or cynically, but as if, on 
the whole, pleased to see her. He seemed a little breathless, 
yet he soon began to speak to Newton as if in continuation of 
their previous conversation — “ And is Fergusson really a year 
younger than I am?” 

“ Yes, quite a year, I should say, and he takes great care of 
himself. I do not think he has really so good a constitution 
as you have, but he takes everything that is strengthening — 
good wine, turtle soup, and 1 do not know what. ” 

“ Ah, indeed!” returned Mr. Liddell, thoughtfully. 

“ I have been explaining to Mr. Liddell,” said the lawyer, 
turning to Katherine, “ that it would be well to let me give 
you the housekeeping money for the present, so that he need 
not be troubled about anything except to get well; and when 
well, my dear sir, you really must go out. Fresh air — ” 

“ Fresh fiddlesticks,” interrupted the old man; “1 have 
been well for years without going out, and I'll not begin now. 
I'll give in to everything else; only, if 1 am obliged to take 


80 


A CROOKED PATH. 


costly food as a medicine* I expect the rest of the household to 
live as carefully as ever . 99 

“ I shall do my best* uncle*” said Katherine* softly. 

After a little more conversation the lawyer took his leave* 
and then Katherine applied herself to read the papers which 
had been neglected. 

It was not till toward evening she was able to write a few 
dines to her mother describing Mr. LiddelFs illness* and beg- 
ging she would come to see her on Saturday* as she (Kath- 
erine) could not absent herself while her uncle was so unwell. 

After this things went on much as usual* only Mr. Liddell 
never resumed his habits of early rising; he was a shade less 
cold too* though at times terribly irritable. 

He took the food prepared for him obediently enough* but 
with evident want of appetite* rarely finishing what was pro- 
vided. 

Mr. Newton generally called every week* and Katherine 
wrote to him besides; she was strict in insisting on the audit 
of her accounts* which the accurate lawyer sometimes praised. 
By judicious accounts of Fergusson, the other surviving mem- 
ber of the Tontine* he managed to keep his client in tolerable 
order. Katherine* though grateful to him for his friendly 
help* little knew how strenuously he strove to lengthen the old 
miser’s days* hoping he would make some provision for his 
niece* while he dared not offer any suggestion on the subject* 
lest it should produce an effect contrary to what he desired. 

Mrs. Fred Liddell was bitterly disappointed by the result of 
her visit to the rich uncle. A good deal* indeed* hung upon 
it. A wealthy succession was certainly a thing to be devoutly 
wished for in itself* but the sharp little widow felt that provis- 
ion for her boys and a dowry for herself meant marriage* if 
she chose* with Colonel Ormonde. 

And she very decidedly did wish it. Her imagination* which 
was vivid enough of its kind* was captivated by the colonel’s 
imposing “ bow-wow 99 manner, the idea of a country-place — 
an old family place too — by his diamond ring and florid com- 
pliments* his self-satisfied fastidiousness and his social position. 
In short* to her he seemed a fashionable hero; but she was 
quite sure he never would hamper himself with two little por- 
tionless boys. Ada Liddell was by no means unkind to her 
children; she was ready to pet them when they met* and give 
them what did not cost her too much; but she considered them 
a terrible disadvantage* and herself a most generous and de- 
voted mother. 


A CHOOKED PATH. 


81 




The day after she had been so ignominiously expelled from 
John Liddell's house she put on the prettiest thing she pos- 
sessed in the way of a bonnet — a contrivance of black lace and 
violets — and having inspected the turn-out of the children's 
maid in her best go-to-meeting attire, also the putting on of 
the boys' newest sailor suits, the curling of their hair, and 
many minor details, she sallied forth across Kensington Gar- 
dens to the Ride, feeling tolerably sure that, in consequence of 
a hint she had dropped a day or two before, when taking after- 
noon tea in Mrs. Burnett's drawing-room, Colonel Ormonde 
would probably be among the riders on his powerful chestnut, 
ready to receive her report. She was quite sure he was very 
much smitten, and eager to know what her chances with old 
Liddell might be; and as her mother-in-law had a bad habit 
of presiding over her own tea-table, it would be more con- 
venient to talk with her gay Lothario in the park. 

Many admiring glances were cast upon the pretty little 
woman in becoming half-mourning, with the k two golden- 
haired, sweet-looking children and their trim maid, which did 
not escape their object, and put her into excellent spirits. 
She felt she had gone forth conquering and to conquer. About 
half-way down the Row she recognized a well-known figure on 
a mighty horse, who cantered up to where she stood, followed 
by a groom. 

“ Good-morning, Mrs. Liddell; 1 thought this piece of fine 
weather would tempt you out," cried Colonel Ormonde, dis- 
mounting and throwing his rein to the groom, who led away 
the horse as if in obedience to some previously given command. 
“ I protest you are a most tantalizing little woman!" he ex- 
claimed, when they had shaken hands and he had patted the 
children's heads. “ I have been looking for you this half 
hour. Where did you hide yourself?" 

“ I did not hide myself. I am dying to tell you about my 
uncle." 

“ Ah! was he all your prophetic soul painted him?" 

“ He was, and a good deal more. He is quite an ogre, and 
lives in a miserable hovel. How Katherine can degrade her- 
self by groveling there with him for the sake of what she can 
get passes my understanding." 

“ Deuced plucky, sensibly girl! She is quite right to stick 
to the old boy. Hope she will get his cash. Gad! with her 
eyes and his thousands, she'd rouse up society!" 

“ Well, 1 believe she intends to have them all. She was 
quite vexed at my going over to see the ogre, and I think has 
prejudiced him against my poor darling boys, for as soon as he 


82 


A CROOKED RATH. 


saw them he called out that he could not receive any one, that 
he was ill and nervous. But I smiled my very best smile, and 
said I had come to introduce myself, and I hoped he would ]et 
me have a little talk with him. The poor old ogre looked at 
me rather kindly and earnestly when I said that, and I really 
do think he would have listened to me, but my sister-in-law 
would make me come away, as if the sight of me was enough 
to frighten a horse from his oats; so somehow we got hustled 
upstairs, and there was an end of it.” 

4 4 Ah, Mrs. Liddell, you ought not to have allowed yourself 
to be outmaneuvered,” cried the colonel, who greatly enjoyed 
irritating his pretty little friend. 44 Your belle-sceur (as she 
really is) is too many for you. Don't you give up; try again 
when the adorable Katherine is out of the way.” 

44 1 fully intend to do so, I assure you,” cried Mrs. Frederic, 
her eyes sparkling, her heart beating with vexation, but deter- 
mined to keep up the illusion of ingratiating herself with the 
miserly uncle. 44 Pray remember this is only a first attempt.” 

4 4 1 am sure you have my devout wishes for your success. 
How this wretched old hunks can resist such eyes, such a smile, 
as yours, is beyond my comprehension. If such a niece at- 
tacked me, I should surrender at the first demand.” 

44 1 don’t think you would ” — a little tartly. 44 1 think you 
have as keen a regard for your own interests as most men.” 

44 1 am sure you would despise me if 1 had not, and the idea 
of being despised by you is intolerable.” 

44 You know 1 do not” — very softly. 44 But it is time I 
turned and went toward home.” 

44 Nonsense, my dear Mrs. Liddell! or, if you will turn, let 
it be round Kensington Gardens. Do you know, I am going 
to Scotland next week, to Sir Ralph's moor; then I expect a 
party to meet Errington at my own place early in September; 
so 1 shall not have many chances of seeing you until I run up 
just before Christmas. Now I am going to ask a great favor. 
It's so hard to get a word with you except under the Argus 
eyes of that mother-in-law of yours.” 

44 What can it be?” opening her eyes. 

44 Come with me to see this play they have been giving at 
the Adelphi. I have never had a spare e.vening to see it. We'll 
leave early, and have a snug little supper at Verey's, and I'll 
see you home.” 

44 It would be delightful, but out of the question, I am 
afraid: Mrs. Liddell has such severe ideas, and I dare not 
offend her.” 

44 Why need she know anything about it? Say — oh, any- 


A CKOOKED PATH. 


83 


thing — that you are going with the Burnetts: they have gone 
to the Italian lakes, but I don’t suppose she knows.” 

The temptation was great, but the little widow was no fool 
in some ways. She saw her way to make something of an im- 
pression on her worldly admirer. 

“ No, Colonel Ormonde,” she said, shaking her head, while 
she permitted the “’suspicious moisture” to gather in her 
eyes. “ It would indeed be a treat to a poor little recluse like 
me, but though there is not a bit of harm in it, or you would 
not ask me, I am sure, 1 must not offend my mother-in-law; 
and though Heaven knows I am not strait-laced, I never will 
tell stories or act deceitfully, if I can help it; that is my only 
strong point, which has to make up for a thousand weak ones. ” 

Colonel Ormonde looked at her with amazement; her great- 
est charm to men such as he was her dolliness, and this was a 
new departure. 

“ Well,” he said, in his most insinuating tones, “ I thought 
you might have granted so much to an old friend and faithful 
admirer like myself. There is no great harm in my little 
plan.” 

“ Certainly not; but you see 1 must hold on to my mother- 
in-law: she is my only real stay. While pleasant and friendly 
as you are, my dear colonel ” — with a pretty little toss of her 
head — “ you will go off shooting, or hunting, or Heaven knows 
what, and it is quite possible I may never see your face again. ” 

“ Oh, by George! you will nod get rid of me so easily,” cried 
Ormonde, a good deal taken aback. 

“ I shall be very glad to see you if you do turn up again,” 
said Mrs. Liddell, graciously. “ So as this will probably be 
the last time I shall see you for some months, pray tell me 
some amusing gossip.” 

But gossip did not seem to come readily to Colonel Ormonde; 
nevertheless, they made a tour of the gardens in desultory con- 
versation, till Mrs. Liddell stopped decidedly, and bade him 

adieu. 

“At least,” said the cautious ex-dragoon, “you will write 
and tel] me how you get on with this amiable old relative of 

yours. ” 

“ I shall be very pleased to report progress, if you care to 
write and ask me, and tell me your whereabouts.” 

“ Then I suppose it is to be good-bye?” said Ormonde, 
almost sentimentally. “ You are treating me devilishly ill.” 

“ I do not see that.” Here the boys came running up, at 
a signal from their mother. 

“ Well, my fine fellow,” said Ormonde, laying his hand on 


84 


A CROOKED PATH. 


Cecil’s shoulder, “ so you went to see your old uncle. Did he 
try to eat you?” 

“No; but he is a nasty, cross old man. He wouldn’t speak 
a word to mammy, but took his stick and hobbled away.” 

“ Yes, he is a wicked man, and I am afraid he will hurt 
auntie,” put in Charlie. 

Colonel Ormonde laughed rather more than the mother 
liked. “ I think you may trust ‘ auntie ’ to take care of her- 
self. 80 you forced the old boy to retreat? What awful 
stories your sister-in-law must have told of you!” to Mrs. Lid- 
dell. 

She was greatly annoyed, but, urged by all-powerful self- 
interest, she maintained a smooth face, and answered, “Oh, 
yes, when Katherine kept worrying about our disturbing her 
uncle, the poor old man got up and left the room.” 

“ Well, you must turn her flank, and be sure to let me know 
how matters progress. 1 suppose you will be here all the 
autumn?” 

“ I should think so; small chance of my going out of town,” 
she returned, bitterly, and the words had scarce left her lips 
before she felt she had made a mistake. Men hate to be both- 
ered with the discomforts of others. 

The result was that Colonel Ormonde cut short his adieus, 
and parted from her with less regret than he felt five minutes 
before. 

The young widow walked smartly back, holding her eldest 
boy’s hand, and administered a sharp rebuke to him for talk- 
ing too much. To which Cecil replied that he had only an- 
swered when he was spoken to. This elicited a scolding for 
his impertinence, and produced further tart answers from the 
fluent young gentleman, which ended by his being dismissed 
in a fury to Jane, vice Charles, promoted to walk beside 
mamma. 

As maybe supposed, Mrs. Liddell lost no time about answer- 
ing her daughter’s note in person. In truth, toward the end 
of a week’s separation she generally began to hunger painfully 
for a siglit of her Katie’s face, to feel the clasp of her soft 
arms, and to this was added in the present instance serious 
uneasiness respecting the strain to which her sejise of responsi- 
bility as nurse as well as housekeeper must subject so inexperi- 
enced a creature. 

It was rather late in the afternoon “when Mrs. Liddeil 
reached Legrave Crescent, and the servant showed her into the 
front parlor at once. Katherine almost feared to draw her 


A CEOOKED PATH. 


85 


uncle's attention to the visitor. He liad had all the papers 
read to him, and even asked for some articles to be read a sec- 
ond time; now after his dinner he seemed to doze. If he had 
not noticed Mrs. Liddell's entry she had perhaps better take 
her away upstairs* at once, but while she thought she sprung 
to her and locked her in a close, silent embrace. 

Turning from her she saw that Mr. Liddell's eyes were open 
and fixed upon them, and she said, softly, “ I am sorry you 
have been disturbed. I shall take my mother to my room; 
perhaps if you want anything you will ring for me." 

“ I will," he returned; and Mrs. Liddell thought his tone a 
little less harsh than usual. “ I said you might come and see 
3 ’our daughter when you like," he added, “ and I repeat it. 
You have brought her up more usefully than 1 expected." 
Having spoken, he leaned his head back wearily and closed 
his eyes. 

66 1 am pleased to hear you say so," returned Mrs. Liddell, 
quietly, and immediately "followed her daughter out of the 

room. 

“ Oh, darling mother, I am so delighted to have you here 
all to myself! It is even better than going home," cried Kate, 
when they were safe in her own special chamber. “ But you 
are looking pale*and worn and thin — so much thinner!" 

“ That is an improvement, Katherine," returned Mrs. Lid- 
dell; “ I shall look all the younger." 

“Ah! but your face looks older, dear. What has been 
worrying you? Has Ada — " 

“Ada has never worried me, as you know, Katie," inter- 
rupted Mrs. Liddell. “ She is not exactly the companion I 
should choose for every day of my life, but she has always been 
kind and nice with me." 

“ Oh, she is not bad, and she would be clever if she man- 
aged to make you quarrel. I am quite different. Now I must 
get you some tea. Pray look round while I am gone, and see 
how comfortable it is;" and Katherine hurried away. 

She soon returned, followed by Mrs. Knapp, who was glad 
to carry up the tea-tray to the pleasant, sensible lady who had 
engaged her for what proved to be not an uncomfortable situa- 
tion. When, after a few civil words, she retired, with what 
delight and tender care Katie waited on her mother, putting a 
cushion at her back and a footstool under her feet, remember- 
ing her taste in sugar, her little weakness for cream! 

“ It was very warm in the omnibus, I suppose, for you are 
looking better already." 

“ I am better; but, Katherine, your uncle is curiously 


A CROOKED PATH. 


changed. It is not so much that he looks 111-, but by compari- 
son so alarmingly amiable.” 

‘ 4 Well, he is less appalling than he was, and I have grown 
wonderfully accustomed to him. But for the monotony, it is 
not so bad as I expected, and it will be better now, as Mr. 
Newton is to give me the weekly money. 1 think my uncle is 
trying to live.” 

“ Poor man! he has little to live for,” said Mrs. Liddell. 

44 He wishes to outlive some other old man, because then he 
will get a good deal of money, according to some curious sys- 
tem — called a 4 Tontine/ ” 

44 Is it possible? The ruling passion, then, in his instance 
is strong against death.” 

44 What a poverty-stricken life his has been, after all!” ex- 
claimed Katherine. 44 Did Ada tell you how vexed he was at 
her visit?” 

44 She was greatly offended, but I should like your version 
of it.” 

Katherine told her, and repeated Mr. Newton's inquiry 
about Mrs. Fred Liddell’s family name. 

44 Mr. Newton is very kind. He is formal and precise, and 
very guarded in all he says, vet I feel that he likes me — us — 
and would like my uncle to do something for us.” 

44 1 never hoped he would do as much as he has. If he 
would remember those poor little boys in his will it would be a 
great help. You and I could always manage together, Katie.” 

44 1 wish we were together by our own selves once more,” 
returned Kate, nestling up to her mother on the big old-fash- 
ioned sofa, and resting her head on her shoulder. 

44 1 wish to God we were! 1 miss you so awfully, my dar- 
ling!” 

There was a short silence while the two clung lovingly to- 
gether. Then Katherine said, in a low tone, 44 Mr. Newton 
evidently thinks he — my uncle — has made a very unjust will, 
and fears he will never change it.” 

44 Most probably he will not; but he ought not to cut off his 
natural heirs.” 

44 Would Cecil and Charlie be his natural heirs?” 

44 1 suppose so, and something would come to you too; but 
I do not understand these matters. It is dreadful how mean 
and mercenary this terrible need for money makes one.” 

44 You want it very much, mother? There is trouble in 
your voice; tell me what it is.” 

44 There is no special pressure, dear, just now; but unless I 
am more successful with me pen I greatly fear I shall get into 


A CROOKED PATH. 


87 


debt before I can liberate myself from that house. Yet if I 
do, what will become of Ada and the boys?” She paused to 
cough. 

Katherine was silent; the tone of her mother’s voice told 
more than her words. 44 But, " resumed Mrs. Liddell, 44 all is 
not black. The 4 Dalston Weekly ' has taken my short story, 
and given me ten pounds for it. However, you must take the 
bad with the good; my poor three-decker has come back on 
my hands. ” 

Katherine uttered a low exclamation. 44 I did hope they 
would have taken it! and what miserable pay for that bright, 
pretty story! Mother, I can not believe that the novel will 
fail. Do, do try Santley & Son! I have always heard they 
were such nice people. Try — promise me you will. ” 

44 Dear Katie, I will do whatever you ask me; but — but I 
confess I feel as if Hope, who has always befriended me, had 
turned her back at last. I am so dreadfully tired ! I feel as 
if 1 were never to rest. Oh, for a couple of years of peace be- 
fore 1 go hence, and a certainty that you would not want!” 

44 Do not fear forme,” cried Katherine, pressing her mother 
to her and covering her pale cheeks with kisses. 44 For my- 
self I fear nothing, but for you, I greatly fear you are unwell; 
you breathe shortly; your hands are feverish. Do not let hope 
go. A few weeks and my uncle will oe stronger, or he may 
be invigorated by feeling he has killed out the other old man, 
and then 1 will go back to you and help you, whatever hap- 
pens. 1 won't stay here to act compound interest. My own 
darling mother, keep up your heart.” 

44 1 am ashamed of myself,” said Mrs. Liddell, in an un- 
steady voice. 44 I ought not to have grieved your young heart 
with my depression, for I have been depressed. ” 

44 Why not? What is the good of youth and strength if it is 
not to uphold those who have already had more than their 
share of life's burdens?” 

44 1 assure you this outpouring has relieved me greatly; 1 
shall return like a giant refreshed,” said Mrs. Liddell, rallying 
gallantly; 44 and you may depend on my trying the fortune of 
my poor novel once more with Santley & Son. Kow tell me 
how your domestic management prospers. ” 

A long confidential discussion ensued, and at last Mrs. Lid- 
dell was obliged to leave. 

Katherine went to tell her uncle she was going to set her 
mother on her way, and to see his cup of beef-tea served to 
him. His remark almost startled her. 44 Very well,” he 
said. 44 Come back soon.” 


88 


A CROOKED PATH. 


This interview agitated Katherine more than Mrs. Liddell 
knew. Her worn look, her cough, her unwonted depression, 
thrilled her daughter’s warm heart with a passion of tender 
longing to be with her, to help her, to give her the rest she so 
sorely needed; and in the solitude of her large, dreary room 
she sobbed herself to sleep, her lips still quivering with the 
loving epithets she had murmured to herself. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

“the lokg task is dohe.” 

The facility with which human nature assimilates new con- 
ditions is among its most remarkable attributes. A week had 
scarcely elapsed since John Liddell’s sudden indisposition and 
subsidence into an invalid condition, yet it seemed to Kath- 
erine that he had been breakfasting in bed for ages, and might 
continue to do so for another cycle without change. Her in- 
experience took no warning from the rapidly developing signs 
of decadence and failing force which Mr. Kewton perceived; 
and, on the whole, she found her task of housekeeper and care- 
taker less ungrateful since weakness had subdued her uncle, 
and the friendly lawyer had been appointed paymaster. 

The days sped with fhe swiftness monotony lends to time. 
Mrs. Liddell -always visited her daughter once a week. Occa- 
sionally Katherine got leave of absence, and spent an hour or 
two at home, where she enjoyed a game of play with her little 
nephews. Otherwise home was less home-like than formerly. 
Ada was sulky and dissatisfied; she dared not intrude on Mr. 
Liddell in his present condition; and she was dreadfully an- 
noyed at not being able to give Colonel Ormonde any encour- 
aging news on this head. Her influence on the family circle, 
therefore, was not cheerful. Besides this, though Mrs. Liddell 
kept a brave front, and did not again allow herself the luxury 
of confidence in her daughter, there were unmistakable signs 
of care and trouble in her face, her voice. She was unfailing 
in her kind forbearance to the woman her son had loved, and 
whatever good existed in Mrs. Fred’s rubbishy little heart re- 
sponded to the genial, broad humanity of her mother-in-law. 
But Katherine perceived, or thought she perceived, that Mrs. 
Liddell was wearing herself down in the effort to make her 
inmates comfortable, and so to beat out her scanty store of 
sovereigns as to make them stretch to the margin of her 
necessities. It was a very shadowy and narrow pass through 
which her road of life led Katherine at this period, nor was 
there much prospect beyond. Moreover, as her mother had 


A CROOKED PATH. 


89 




anticipated, the invisible cords which bound her to the mori- 
bund old miser were tightening their hold more and more, she 
often looked back and wondered at the sort of numbness which 
stole over her spirit during this time of trial. 

September was now in its first week; the weather was wet 
and cold; and Katherine was thankful when Mr. Newton’s 
weekly visit was due. It was particularly stormy that day, 
and he was a little later than usual. 

When she had left solicitor and client together for some 
time, she descended, as was her custom, to make a cup of tea 
for the former, and give her uncle his beef-tea or jelly. 

Mr. Newton rose, shook hands with her, and then resumed 
his conversation with Mr. Liddell. 

“ I do not for a moment mean to say that he i§ a reckless 
bettor or a mere gambling horse-racer; and after all, to enter 
a horse or two for the local races, or even Newmarket, is per- 
fectly allowable in a man of his fortune — it will neither make 
him nor mar him.” 

“ It will mar him,” returned Mr. Liddell, in more energetic 
tones than Katherine had heard him utter since he was laid 
up. “ A man who believes he is rich enough to throw away 
money is on the brink of ruin. He appears to me in a totally 
different light. I thought he was steady, thoughtful, alive to 
the responsibility of his position. Ah, who is to be trusted? 
Who?” 

There seemed no reply to this, for Mr. Newton started a 
new and absorbing topic. 

“ Mr. Fergusson is keeping wonderfully well,” he remarked. 
“His sister was calling on my wife yesterday, and says that 
since he took this new food — Kevalenta Arabica, I think it is 
called — he is quite a new man.” 

“What food is that?” asked Mr. Liddell. While Newton 
explained, Katherine reflected with some wonder on the fact 
that there was a Mrs. Newton; it had never come to her 
knowledge before. She tried to imagine the precise lawyer in 
love. How did he propose? Surely on paper, in the most 
strictly legal terms! Could he ever have felt the divine joy 
and exultation which loving and being loved must create? 
Had lie little children? and oh! did he, could he, ever dance 
them on his knee? He was a good man, she was sure, but 
goodness so starched and ironed was a little appalling. 

These fancies lasted till the description of Kevelenta Arabica 
was ended; then Mr. Liddell said, “ Tell my niece where to 
get it.” . Never had he called her niece before; even Mr. New- 
ton looked surprised. 


90 


A CROOKED PATH. 


“ 1 will send you the address/* he said. “ And here, Miss 
Liddell, is the check for next week. ** 

“ I have still some money from the last,** said Katherine, 
blushing. “ I had better give it to yon, and then the check 
need not be interfered with.** She hated to speak of money 
before her uncle. 

“ As you like. You are a good manager. Miss Liddell.*' 

“ Give it to me,** cried the invalid from his easy-chair; “ I 
will put it in my bureau. I have a few coins there, and they 
can go together. ** 

“ Very well; but had not my uncle better write an acknowl- 
edgment? We shall be puzzled about the money when we 
come to reckon up at the end of the month, if he does not. ** 

Katherihe had been taught by severe experience the neces- 
sity of saving herself harmless when handling Mr. Liddell *s 
money. 

“ An acknowledgment,** repeated the old man, with a slight, 
sobbing, inward laugh. “ That is well thought. Yes, by all 
means write it out, Mr. Newton, and I will sign. Oh, yes; I 
will sign!** 

Newton turned to the writing-table and traced a few lines, 
bringing it on the blotting-pad for his client’s signature. 

“ I can sign steadily enough still,** said Mr. Liddell, slowly, 
“ and my name is good for a few thousands. Hey?** 

“ That it certainly is, Mr. Liddell.** 

“ Do you think old Fergusson could sign as steadily as that?** 
asked Mr. Liddell, with a slight, exulting smile. 

“ I should say not. What writing of his I have seen was a 
terrible scrawl.** 

“ Hum! he wasn’t a gentleman, you know. He drank too; 
not to be intoxicated, but too much — too much! For he will 
find the temperance man too many for him. I’ll win the race, 
the waiting race;** and he laughed again in a distressing, hys- 
terical fashion that quite exhausted him. 

Katherine flew to fetch cold water, while the old man leaned 
back panting and breathless, and Mr. Newton, much alarmed, 
fanned him with a folded newspaper. 

He gradually recovered, but complained much of the beat- 
ing of his heart. Mr. Newton wished to send for the doctor, 
but Mr. Liddell would not hear of it. Then he urged his 
allowing the servant at least to sleep on the sofa in the front 
parlor, leaving the door into Mr. Liddell’s room open. To 
this the object of his solicitude was also opposed, so Mr. New- 
ton bade him farewell. Katherine, however, waylaid him in 
the hall, and they held a short conference. 


A CROOKED PATH. 


91 


“ He really ought not to be left alone at night. ” 

“No, he must not,” said Katherine. “I will make our 
servant spend the night in the parlor. She can easily open 
the door after the lights are out, without his being vexed by 
knowing she is there. I could not sleep if I thought he was 
alone. 1 will come very early in the morning to relieve her.” 

“ Do, my dear young lady. I will call on the doctor and 
beg him to come round early.” 

“ Do you think my uncle so ill, then?” 

“ He is greatly changed, and his weakness makes me un- 
easy. I trust in God he may be spared a little longer. ” 

Katherine looked and felt surprised at the fervor of his 
tone. Little did she dream the real source of the friendly 
lawyer’s anxiety to prolong a very profitless existence. 

After a few more remarks and a promise to come at any 
time if he were needed, Mr. Newton departed; and Katherine 
got through the dreary evening as best she could. 

How she longed to summon her mother! but she feared to 
irritate her uncle, who was evidently unequal to bear the slight- 
est agitation. 

Next day was unusually cold, and though Mr. Liddell had 
passed a tranquil night, he seemed averse to leave his bed. He 
lay there very quietly, and listened to the papers being read, 
and it was late in the afternoon before he would get up and 
dress. From this time forward he rarely rose till dusk, and 
it grew more and more an effort to him. He was always 
pleased to see Mr. Newton, and to converse a little with him. 
He even spoke with tolerable civility to Mrs. Liddell when she 
came to see her daughter. 

As the weather grew colder — and autumn that year was very 
wintery — he objected more and more to leave his bed, and at 
last came to sitting up only for a couple of hours in the chair 
by his bedroom fire. It was during one of these intervals that 
Katherine, who had been racking her brains for something to 
talk of that would interest him, bethought her of a transaction 
in old newspapers which Mrs. Knapp had brought to a satis- 
factory conclusion. She therefore took out “ certain moneys ” 
from her pursa 

“We have sold the newspapers at last, uncle,” she said. 
“ I kept back some for our own use, so all I could get was a 
shilling and three halfpence.” She placed the coins on a lit- 
tle table which stood by his arm-chair, adding, “ I suppose 
you know the Scotch saying, 6 Many mickles make a muckle;’ 
even a few penge are better than a pile of useless papers.” 

“ I know,” said Liddell, with feeble eagerness, clutching 


92 


A CROOKED PAtH. 


the money and transferring it to liis little old purse. 44 It is a 
good saying — a wise saying. I did not think you knew it; but 
— but why did you keep back any?” 

44 Because one always needs waste paper in a house, to light 
fires and cover things from dust. I shall collect more next 
time,” she added, seeing the old man was pleased with the 
idea. 

He made no reply, but sat gazing at the red coals, his lips 
moving slightly, and the purse still in his hand. Again he 
opened it, and took out the coins she had given him, holding 
them to the fire-light in the hollow of his thin hand. 

44 Do you know the value of money?” he said at length, 
looking piercingly at her. 44 Do you know the wonderful life 
it has — a life of its own?” 

44 If the want of it can teach its value I ought to know,” 
she returned. 

44 You are wrong! Poverty never teaches its worth. You 
never hold it and study it when, the moment you touch it, you 
have to exchange it for commodities. No! it is when you can 
spare some for a precious seed, and watch its growth, and see 
— see its power of self-multiplication if it is let alone — just let 
alone,” he repeated, with a touch of pathos in his voice. 
44 Now these few pence, thirteen and a half in all — a boy with 
an accumulative nature and youth, early youth, on his side, 
might build a fortune on these. Yes, he might, if he had not 
a groveling love of food and comfort.” 

44 Do you think he really could?” asked Kate, interested in 
spite of herself in the theories of the old miser. 

44 Would you care to know?” said her uncle, fixing his keen 
dark eyes upon her. 

44 1 should indeed.” Her voice proved she was in earnest. 

44 Then I will tell you, step by step, but not to-night. I 
am too weary. You are different from the others — your father 
and your brother. You are — yes, you are — more like me.” 

44 God forbid!” was Katherine's mental ejaculation. . 

Mr. Liddell slowly put the thirteenpence halfpenny back in 
his purse, drew forth his bunch of keys, looked at them, and 
restored them to his pocket; then, resting hi* head wearily 
against the chair, he said, 44 Give me something to take and I 
will go to bed. ” 

Katherine hastened to obey, and summoned the servant to 
assist him, as usual. 

The next morning was cold and wet, with showers of sleet, 
and Mr. Liddell declared he had taken a chill, and refused to 
get up. He was indisposed to eat, and did not show any in- 


A CROOKED PATH. 


93 


terest in the newspaper. About noon the doctor called. Mr. 
Liddell answered his questions civilly enough., but did not re- 
spond to his attempts at conversation. 

“ Your uncle is in a very low condition/* said the doctor, 
when he came into the next room, where Katherine awaited 
him. “ You must do your best to make him take nourish- 
ment, and keep him as warm as possible. 1 suppose Mr. New- 
ton is always in town?** 

“ I think so; at least I never knew him to be absent since 1 
came here. 1 rather expect him to-day or to-morrow. Do you 
think my uncle seriously ill?** 

“ He is not really ill, but he has an incurable complaint — 
old age. He ought not to be so weak as he is; still, he may 
last some time, with your good care.** 

Katherine took her needle-work and settled herself to keep 
watch by the old man. The doctor*s inquiry for Mr. Newton 
had startled her, but his subsequent words allayed her fears. 
“»He may last for some time,** conveyed to her mind the 
notion of an indefinite lease of life. 

Mr. Liddell seemed to be slumbering peacefully, when, after 
a long silence, during which Katherine*s thoughts had trav- 
ersed many a league of land and sea, he said suddenly, in 
stronger tones than usual, “ Are you there? 7 * He scarcely 
ever called her by her name. 

“ I am,** said Katherine, coming to the bedside. 

“Here, take these keys** — he drew them from under his 
pillows; “ this one unlocks that bureau ** — pointing to a large 
old-fashioned piece of furniture, dark and polished, which 
stood on one side of the fire-place; “ open it, and in the top 
drawer left you will find a long folded paper. Bring it to me. ** 

Katherine did as he directed, and could not help seeing the 
words, “ Will of J ohn Wilmot Liddell,** and a date, some seven 
or eight years back, inscribed upon it. She handed it to her 
uncle, arranging his pillows so that he might sit up more com- 
fortably, while she rather wondered at the commonplace aspect 
of so potent an instrument. A will, she imagined, was some- 
thing huge, of parchment, with big seals attached. 

John Liddell slowly put on his spectacles, and unfolding the 
paper, read for some time in silence. 

“ This will not do,** he said at last, clearly and firmly. “ I 
was mistaken in him. The care for and of money must be 
born in you; it can not be taught. No, I can make a better 
disposition. Could you take care of money, girl?** he asked, 
sternly. 

“ 1 should try,** returned Katherine, quietly. 


94 


A CROOKED PATH. 


There was a pause. The old man lay thinking, his lean, 
brown hand lying on ihe open paper. “ Write,” he said at 
length, so suddenly and sharply that he startled his niece; 
“get paper and write to Newton.” Katherine brought the 
writing materials, and placed herself at the small table. 

“ Dear Sir,” he dictated — “ Be so good as to come to me 
as soon as convenient. I wish to make a will more in accord- 
ance with my present knowledge than any executed by me 
formerly. I am, yours faithfully.” 

Katherine brought over pen and paper, and the old man 
affixed his signature clearly. 

“ Now fold it up and send it to post. No — take it yourself; 
then it will be safe, and so much the better for you.” 

Katherine called the good-natured Mrs. Knapp to take her 
place, and sallied forth. She was a good deal excited. Was 
she in a crisis of her fate? Would her grim old uncle leave 
her wherewithal to give the dear mother rest and peace for the 
remainder of her days? It would not take much; would he — 
oh, would he remember the poor little boys? She never 
dreamed of more than a substantial legacy; the bulk of his 
fortune he might leave to whom he liked. How dreadful it 
was that money should be such a grim necessity! 

She felt oppressed, and made a small circuit returning, to 
enjoy as much fresh air as she could, and called at some of the 
shops where she was accustomed to deal, to save sending the 
servant later. She was growing a little nervous, and disliked 
being left alone in the house. 

When she returned, her uncle was very much in the same 
attitude; but he had folded up his will and placed his hand 
under his head. 

“ You have been very long,” he said; querulously. 

Katherine said she had been at one or two shops. 

“ Read to me,” he said, “ I am tired thinking; but first 
lock the bureau and give me the keys; you left them hanging 
in the lock. 1 have never taken my eyes from them. Now I 
have them,” he added, putting them under his pillow, “ I can 
rest.^ Here, take this ” — handing her the will; “put it in the 
drawer of my writing-table; we may want it to-morrow; and I 
do not wish that bureau opened again; everything is there.” 

Having placed the will as he desired, Katherine began to 
read, and the rest of the clay passed as usual. 

She could not, however, prevent herself from listening for 
Mr. Newton's knock. She felt sure he would hasten to his 


A CROOKED PATH. 95 

client as soon as he had read his note. He would be but too 
glad to draw up another and a juster will. 

Without a word, without the slightest profession of friend- 
ship, Newton had managed to impress Katherine with the idea 
that he was anxious to induce Mr. Liddell to do what was right 
by his brother's widow and daughter. 

But night closed in, and no Mr. Newton came. Mr. Lid- 
dell was unusually wakeful and restless, and seemed on the 
watch himself, his last words that night being, “ I am sure 
Newton will be here in good time to-morrow." 

Instead, the morrow brought a dapper and extremely mod- 
ern young man, the head of the firm in right of succession, 
his late father having founded the house of Stephens & New- 
ton. 

Mr. Liddell had just been made comfortable in his great in- 
valid's chair by the fire, having risen earlier than usual in 
expectation of Mr. Newton's visit. When this gentleman 
presented himself, Katherine observed that her uncle was in a 
state of tremulous impatience, and the moment she saw the 
stranger she felt that some unlucky accident had prevented 
Newton from obeying his client's behest. 

“ Who — what?" gasped Mr. Liddell, when a card was hand- 
ed to him. “ Read ft," to Katherine. 

“ Mr. Stephens, of Stephens & Newton, Red Lion Square," 
she returned. 

“ I will not see him, I do not want him," cried her uncle, 
angrily. “ Where is Newton? Go ask him." 

With an oppressive sense of embarrassment, Katherine went 
out into the hall, and confronted a short, slight young man 
with exceedingly tight trousers, a colored cambric tie, and a 
general air of being on the turf. He held a white hat in one 
hand, and on the other, which was ungloved, he wore a large 
seal ring. Katherine did not know how to say that her uncle 
would not see him, but the stranger took the initiative. 

• “ Aw — I have done myself the honor of coming in person to 
take Mr. Liddell's instructions, as Mr. Newton was called out 
of town by very particular business yesterday morning. 1 
rather hoped he might return last night, but a communication 
this morning informs us he will be detained till this afternoon, 
not reaching town till 9 :30 p. m. I am prepared to execute 
any directions in my partner's stead." 

He spoke with an air of condescension, as if he did Mr. Lid- 
dell a high honor, and made a step forward. Katherine did 
not know what to say. It was terrible to keep this consequen- 


96 


A CROOKED PATH. 


tial little man in the hall, and there was literally nowhere else 
to take him. 

“Iam so sorry, but my uncle is very unwell and nervous. 
I do not think he could see any one but Mr. Newton, who is 
an old friend, you know/* she added, deprecatingly. 

“Iam his legal adviser too/* returned the young man, with 
a slightly offended air. “I am the senior partner and head 
of the house, and the worse Mr. Liddell is, the greater the 
necessity for his giving instructions respecting his will. * 9 

“I will tell him Mr. Newton is away/* said Katherine, 
courteously; “and — would you mind sitting down here? 1 
am quite distressed not to have any better place to offer you, 
but 1 can not help it.** 

“It is of no consequence/* returned the young lawyer, 
struck by her sweet tones and simple good -breeding, yet look- 
ing round him at the worn oil-cloth and shabby stair-carpeting 
with manifest amazement. 

“ Mr. Newton is out of town, and does not return till late 
this evening/* said Katherine, returning to the irate old man. 
“ This gentleman says he is the head of the firm, and will do 
your bidding in Mr. Newton’s stead.** 

“ Tell him he shall do nothing of the kind/* returned Mr. 
Liddell, in a weak, hoarse, impatient voice. “1 saw him 
once, and I know him: he is an ignorant, addle-pated jacka- 
napes. He shall not muddle my affairs; send him away; I 
can wait for Newton. 1 don’t suppose I am going to die to- 
night. ** 

And Katherine, blushing, “celestial rosy red/* hied back 
to the smart young man, who was reposing himself on the only 
seat the entrance boasted, and conjecturing that if this fine, 
fair, soft-spoken girl was to be the old miser’s heiress, she 
would be almost deserving of his own matrimonial intentions. 

“ My uncle begs me to apologize to you, Mr. Stephens, but 
he is so much accustomed to Mr. Newton, and in such a nerv- 
ous state, that he would prefer waiting till that gentleman can 
come. ** 

“ Oh, very well; only I wish 1 had known before — I came 
up here at some inconvenience; and also wish Mr. Liddell 
could be persuaded that delays are dangerous. ** 

“ The delay is not for very long. I am sorry you had this 
fruitless trouble. Mr. Liddell is very weak.** 

“ I am sure if anything could restore him, it would be the 
care of such a nurse as you must be/* with a bow and a grin. 

“ Thank you; good-morning,” said Katherine, with such 


A CROOKED PATH. 97 

an air of decided dismissal that the young senior partner at 
once departed. 

Mr. Liddell fretted and fumed for an hour or two before he 
had exhausted himself sufficiently to sit still and listen to 
Katherine's reading; and after he had apparently sunk into a 
doze, he suddenly started up and exclaimed: “That idiot, 
young Stephens, will never think of sending to his house. 
Write — write to Newton's private residence." 

“ I think Mr. Stephens will, uncle. He seemed anxious to 
meet your wishes." 

“ Don't be a fool — do as I bid you! Get the paper and 
pen. Are you ready?" 

“lam." 

“ Dear Sir, — Let nothing prevent your coming to me to- 
morrow," he dictated; “ 1 want to make my will. • It is im- 
portant that affairs be not left in confusion. Yours truJ^L—, 

“ Give me the pen," he went on, in the same breath. “ I 
can sign as well as ever. Now you go yourself and put this in 
the post. 1 do not trust that woman — they all stop and gossip, 
and I want this to go by the next dispatch. ' ' 

Katherine, always thankful to be in the air, went readily 
enough. She was distressed to find how the nervous uneasi- 
ness of yesterday was growing on her. The perpetual com- 
panionship of the grim old skeleton, her uncle, was making 
her morbid, she thought; she must ask leave to go and spend 
a day at home to see how her mother was getting on, to re- 
fresh herself by a game of romps with the children. Why, she 
felt absolutely growing old! 

When she re-entered the house she found, much to her satis- 
faction, that the doctor was with Mr. Liddell; and after lay- 
ing aside her out-door dress, she went to the parlor. 

“ 1 have been advising Mr. Liddell to try the effect of a few 
glasses of champagne," said the former, who was looking 
rather grave, Katherine thought. “ But as there is none in 
his cellar, he objects. Now you must help me to persuade 
him. I am going on to a patient in Regent's Park, and shall 
pass a very respectable wine-merchant's on my way; so I shall 
just take the law into my own hands and order a couple of bot- 
tles for you. Consider it medicine. It is wonderful how much 
more generally champagne is used than when you and 1 were 
young, my dear sir!" etc., etc., he went on, with professional 
cheerfulness. But Mr. Liddell did not heed him much. 

“He is very weak. The action of the heart is extremely 


98 


A CHOOKED PATlt. 


feeble/’ said the doctor, when Katherine followed him to the 
door. 44 Try and make him take the champagne. ” 

Another day dragged through; then Katherine, rather worn 
with the constant involuntary, sense of watching which had 
strained her nerves all day, slept soundly and dreamlessly. 
She woke early next morning, and was soon dressed. Mrs. 
Knapp reported Mr. Liddell to be still slumbering. 

44 But law, miss, he have had a bad night — the worst yet, I 
think. He was dreaming and tossing from side to side, and 
then he would scream out words I couldn’t understand. I 
made him take some wine between two and three, but I do 
not think he knew me a bit. I have had a dreadful night, 
of it.” 

Katherine expressed her sympathy, and did what she could 
to lighten the good woman’s labors. 

Mr. Liddell, however, though he looked ghastly, seemed 
rather stronger than usual. He insisted on getting up, and 
came into the sitting-room about eleven. 

It was a cold morning, with a thick, drizzling rain. Kath- 
erine made up the fire to a cheerful glow, and by her uncle’s 
directions placed pen, ink, and paper on the small table he 
always had beside him. Then he uttered the accustomed 
commanding 44 Read,” and Katherine read. 

Suddenly he interrupted her by exclaiming, 44 Give me the* 
deaths first. ” 

It had been a whim of his latterly to have this lugubrious 
list read to him every day. 

Katherine had hardly commenced when she descried Mr. 
Newton’s well-known figure advancing from the garden gate. 

64 Ah, here is Mr. Newton!” she exclaimed. 

44 Ha! that is well,” cried her uncle, with shrill exultation. 
44 Now — now all will go right.” 

The next moment the lawyer was shown in, and having 
greeted them, proceeded to apologize for his unavoidable ab- 
sence. 44 Here 1 am, however, sir,” he concluded, 44 at your 
service.” 

44 Go — leave us,” said Liddell, abruptly yet not unkindly, 
to Katherine; then, as she left the room, 44 Finish the deaths 
for me, will you, before we go to business. She had just read 
the first two. Read — make haste!” 

Somewhat surprised, Mr. Newton took up the paper and 
continued: 44 4 On the 30th of September, at Wimbledon, uni- 
versally regretted, the Rev. James Johnson, formerly minister 
of 44 Little Bethel, Bermondsey. ” On October 1st, at her 
residence, Upper Clapton, Esther, relict of Captain Double- 


A CROOKED PATH. 


99 


day, late of the B. I. C. Service. On the 2d instant, at Bourne- 
mouth, Peter Fergusson, of Upper Baker Street, in the seventy- 
fifth year of his age/ " 

46 Fergusson dead! and he is three years my junior! Now 
it is all mine — all! — all! I shall be able to settle it as I like. 
I haven't eaten and drunk in vain. I'm strong, quite strong. 
All the papers are there, in my bureau. I'll show them to 
you. Aha! I thought I'd outlive him! I was determined to 
outlive him!" 

With an uncanny laugh he struggled to his feet, and at- 
tempted to walk to his bedroom, his stick in one hand and the 
keys he had taken from his pocket in the other. For a few 
steps he walked with a degree of strength that astonished 
Newton; then he gave a deep groan, staggered, and fell to the 
ground with a crash. 

Newton rushed to raise him, which he did with some diffi- 
culty. The noise brought the servant to his assistance. 

44 Go! fetch Doctor Brown," said Mr. Newton, as soon as 
they had laid the helpless body on the bed. 44 Though 1 doubt 
if he can do anything. The old man is gone." 


CHAPTER IX. 

“temptation. ' ' 

To Katherine, who was in her own room, the sound beneath 
came with a subdued force, and knowing Mr. Newton was 
with him, she thought it better to stay where she was, for it 
never struck her that Mr. Liddell had fallen. 

When, therefore, Mrs. Knapp, with that eagerness to spread 
evil tidings peculiar to her class, rushed upstairs to announce 
breathlessly that she was going for the doctor, but that the 
poor old gentleman was quite dead, Katherine could not be- 
lieve her. 

She quickly descended to the parlor, where she found Mr. 
Newton standing by the fire, looking pale and anxious. 

44 Oh, Mr. Newton, he can not be dead!" cried Katherine. 
44 He seemed stronger this morning, and he has fainted more 
than once. Let me bathe his temples. " She took a bottle 
of eau-de-Cologne from the sideboard as she spoke. 

44 My dear young lady, both your servant and I have done 
what we could to revive him, and I fear — I believe he has 
passed away. The start and the triumph of finding himself 
the last survivor of the Tontine association were too much for 
his weak heart. I would not go in if I were you; death is ap- 
palling to the young. " ’ ' 


100 


A CROOKED PATH. 


Katherine stopped, half frightened, yet ashamed of her fear. 

“ Oh, yes; I must satisfy myself that I can do nothing more 
for him. Can it be possible that he will never speak again — 
never search for news of that other poor old man?” She went 
softly into the next room, followed by Newton, and approach- 
ing the bed, laid her hand gently on his brow. “How awfully 
cold!” she whispered, shrinking back in spite of herself at the 
unutterable chill of death. “But he looks so peaceful, so 
different from what he did in life!” She stood gazing at him, 
silent, awe-struck. 

“ Come away,” said Newton, kindly. “ The doctor will be 
here, I trust, in a few minutes, and will be able to give a 
certificate which will save the worry of an inquest.” 

Katherine obeyed his gesture of entreaty, and went slowly 
into the front room, where she sat down, leaning her elbows 
on the table, and covering her face with her hands, while Mr. 
Newton closed the door. 

It was all over, then, her hopes and fears; the poor wasted 
life, as much wasted and useless as if spent in the wildest and 
most extravagant follies, was finished. What had it left be- 
hind? Nothing of good to any human being; no blessing of 
loving kindness, of help and sympathy, to any suffering broth- 
er wayfarer on life’s high-road; nothing but hard, naked gold 
— gold which, from what she had heard, would go to one 
already abundantly provided. Ah, she must not think of that 
gold so sorely needed., or bad, unseemly ideas would master 
her ! 

But Mr. Newton was speaking. “ It is fortunate 1 was here 
to be some stay to you,” he said; “ the shock must be very 
great, and — ” He interrupted himself hastily to exclaim: 

“ Here is the doctor! I shall go with him into our poor 
friend’s room; let me find you here when 1 come back.” , 
Katherine bent her head, and remained in the same attitude, 
thinking, thinking. 

How long it was before the kind lawyer returned she did 
not know; but he came and stood by her, the doctor behind ■ 
him. 

“ It is as I supposed,” said Newton, in a low tone. “ Life 
is quite extinct.” Katherine rose and confronted them, look- \ 
ing very white. 

“ Yes,” added the doctor; “ death must have been instan- | 
taneous. Your uncle was in a condition which made him 
liable to succumb under the slightest shock. Can you give 
me paper and ink? I will yvrite a certificate at once. Then, 
Miss Liddell, I shall loot to you.” 


A CROOKED PATH. 


101 


Katherine placed the writing materials before him silently, 
and watched him trace the lines; then he handed the paper to 
Mr. Newton, saying: 44 You will see to what is necessary, I 
presume/* and rising he took Katherine*s hand and felt her 
pulse. 4 4 Very unsteady indeed; 1 would recommend a glass 
of wine now, and at night a composing draught, which I will 
send. If I can do nothing more I must go on my rounds. I 
shall be at home again about six, should you require my serv- 
ices in any way.** 

He went out, followed by Mr. Newton, and they spoke to- 
gether for a few moments before the doctor entered his car- 
riage and drove off. 

44 Now, my dear,** said Mr. Newton, when he returned — 
the startling event of the morning seemed to have taken off 
the sharp edge of his precision — 6 4 what shall you do? I sup- 
pose you would like to go home. It would be rather trying for 
you to stay here.** 

44 To go home!** returned Katherine, slowly. 44 Yes, I 
should, oh, very much but I will not go. My uncle never was 
unkind to me, and I will stay in his house until he is laid in 
his last resting-place. Yet I do not like to stay alone. May 
I have my mother with me?** 

44 Yes, by all means. I tell you what, I will drive over and 
break the news to her myself; then she can come to you at 
once. I have a very particular appointment in the city this 
afternoon, but I shall arrange to spend to-morrow forenoon 
here, and examine the contents of that bureau. I have 
thought it well to take possession of your uncle*s keys.** 

44 Yes, of course,** said Katherine; “you ought to have 
them. And you will go and send my mother to me! I shall 
feel quite well and strong if she is near. How good of you to 
think of it/* and she raised her dark, tearful eyes so grate- 
fully to his that the worthy lawyer*s heart kindled within him. 

44 My dear young lady, I have rarely, if ever, regretted any- 
thing so much as my unfortunate absence yesterday, though 
had I been able to answer my late client*s first summons, I 
doubt if time would have permitted the completion of a new 
will. Now my best hope, though it is a very faint one, is that 
he may have destroyed his last will, and so died intestate.** 

44 Why?** asked Katherine, indifferently. She felt very 
hopeless. 

44 It would be better for you. You would, I rather think,, 
be the natural heir.** Katherine only shook her head. 44 Of 
course it is not likely. Still, 1 have known him destroy one 
will before he made another. He has made four or five, to 


102 


A CROOKED PATH. 


my knowledge. So it is wiser not to hope for anything. I 
shall always do what I can for you. Now yon are quite cold 
and shivering. I would advise your going to your room, and 
keeping there out of the way. You can do no more for your 
uncle, and I will send your mother to you as soon as I can. 1 
suppose you have the keys of the house?” 

Katherine bowed her head. She seemed tongue-tied. Only 
when Mr. Newton took her hand to say good-bye she burst , 
out: “ You will send my mother to me soon — soon?” 

Then she went away to her own room. Locking the door, 
she sat down and buried her face in the cushions of the sofa. 1 
She felt her thoughts in the wildest confusion, as if some sepa- 
rate exterior self were exerting a strange power over her. It '* 
had said to her: “ Be silent,” when Mr. Newton spoke of the * 
possibility of not finding the will, and she had obeyed without 
the smallest intention to do good or evil. Some force she i 
could not resist — or rather she did not dream of resisting — I 
imposed silence on her. To what had this silence committed 
her? To nothing. When Mr. Newton came and examined j 
the bureau he would no doubt open the drawer of the writing- ] 
table also. She had locked it, and put the key in the little 
basket where the keys of her scantily supplied store closet and j 
of the cellaret lay; there it stood on the round table near the j 
window, with her ink-bottle and blotting-book. She sat up 
and looked at it fixedly. That little key was all that inter- ] 
vened between her and rest, freedom, enjoyment. The more ] 
she recalled her uncle's words and manner on the day he had | 
dictated his first note to Mr. Newton, the more convinced she 1 
felt that he had intended to provide for her, and now his in- | 
tentions would be frustrated, and the will the old man wished ] 
to suppress would be the instrument by which his possessions | 
would be distributed. 

It was too bad. She did not know how closely the hope of j 
her mother's emancipation from the long hard struggle with j 
poverty and its attendant evils by means of Uncle Liddell's l 
possible bequest had twined itself round her heart. Now she 1 
could not give it up. It seemed to her that her mental grasp 
refused to relax. 

She rose and began to make some little arrangement for her 
mother's comfort, and presently the servant came to ask if 
she would take some tea. 

“I'm sure, miss, you must be faint for want of food, and 
we are just going to have some — the woman and me.” 

“ What woman?” 


A CROOKED PATH. 103 

“ A very respectable person as Doctor Brown sent in to — to 
attend to the poor old gentleman, miss.” 

“ All! thank you. 1 could not take anything now. I ex- 
pect my mother soon; then I shall be glad of some tea.” 

“ Well, miss, you'll ring if you want me. And dear me, 
you ought to have a bit of fire. Dll light one up in a minnit. ” 

“ Not till you have had your tea. I am not cold. ” 

“ You look awful bad, miss!” With this comforting assur- 
ance Mrs. Knapp departed, leaving the door partially open. 

A muffled sound, as if people were moving softly and cau- 
tiously, was wafted to Katherine as she sat and listened; then 
a door closed gently ; voices murmuring in a subdued tone 
reached her ear, retreating as if the speakers had gone down- 
stairs. 

Katherine went to the window. It was a wretchedly dark, 
drizzling afternoon — cold, too, with gusts of wind. She hoped 
Mr. Newton would make her mother take a cab. It was no 
weather for her to stand about waiting for an omnibus. 
Would the time ever come when they need not think of 
pennies? 

Suddenly she turned, took a key from her basket, and 
walked composedly down-stairs, unlocked the drawer of the 
writing-table, and took out her uncle's last will and testa- 
ment. Then she closed the drawer, leaving the key in the 
lock, as it had always been, and returned to her room. 

Having fastened her door, she applied herself to read the 
document. It was short and simple, and with the exception 
of a small legacy to Mr. Newton, left all the testator possessed 
to a man whose name was utterly unknown to her. Mr. New- 
ton was the sole executor, and the will was dated nearly seven 
years back. 

Katherine read it through a second time, and then very de- 
liberately folded it up. 66 It shall not stand in my way,” she 
murmured, her lips closing firmly, and she sat for a few mo- 
ments holding it tight in her hand, as she thought steadily 
what she should do. “ Had my uncle lived a few hours more, 
this would have been destroyed or nullified. I will carry out 
his intentions. I wonder what is the legal penalty for the 
crime or felony I am going to commit? At all events I shall 
risk it. The only punishment I fear is my mother's condem- 
nation. She must never know. It is a huge theft, whether 
the man I rob is rich or poor. 1 hope he is very rich. I 
know I am doing a great wrong; that if others acted as 1 am 
acting there would be small security for property — perhaps for 
life — but I'll do it. Shall I ever be able to hold up my he#d 


104 


A CROOKED PATH. 


and look honest folk in the face? I will try. If I commit 
this robbery I must not falter nor repent. I must be con- 
sistently,, boldly false, and I must get done with it before my 
dearest mother comes. How grieved and disappointed she 
would be if she knew! She believes so firmly in my truthful- 
ness. Well, I have been true, and I will be, save in this. : 
Here I will lie by silence. Where shall I hide it? for I will 
not destroy it — not yet at least. No elaborate concealment is j 
necessary. ” 

She rose up and took some thin brown paper — such as is used j 
in shops to wrap up lace and ribbons — and folded the will in ^ 
it neatly, tying it up with twine, and writing on it, “Old j 
MSS., to be destroyed.” Then she laid it in the bottom of ] 
her box. “ If my mother sees it, the idea of old MS. will 
certainly deter her from looking at it.” She put back the j 
things she had taken out and closed the box; then she stood 
for a moment of thought. \ hat would the result be? Who j 
could tell? Some other unknown Liddells might start up to 
share the inheritance. Well, she would not mind that much; 1 
so long as she could secure some years of modest competence ] 
to her mother, some help for her little nephews, she would be j 
content. 

Now that she had accomplished what an hour ago was a 
scarcely entertained idea, she felt wonderfully calm, but curious j 
as to how things would turn out, with the sort of curiosity she j 
might have felt with regard to the action of another. 

She did not want to be still any more, however; she went to j 
and fro in her room, dusting it and putting it in order; she J 
rearranged her own hair and dress, and then she went to the j 
window to watch for her mother. Time had gone swiftly | 
while her thoughts had been so intensely occupied, and to her j 
great delight she soon saw a cab drive up, from which Mrs. I 
Liddell descended. 

Katherine flew to receive her, and in the joy of feeling her j 
mother once more by her side she temporarily forgot the sense | 
of a desperate deed which had oppressed her. 

Mrs. Liddell had been much shocked by the sudden death of 
her brother-in-law, but her chief anxiety was to fly to Katie, > 
to shorten the terrible hours of loneliness in the house of ;; 
mourning. 

She too honestly confessed her regret that the old man had | 
been cut off before he could fulfill his intention of making a | 
new will, “ though,” she said to her daughter as they talked jjj 
together, “ we can not be sure that he would have remem- 
bered us — or rather you. But there is no use in thinking of jj 


A CROOKED PATH. 


105 


what is past out of the range of possibilities. Let us only hope 
whoever is heir will not insist on immediate repayment of that 
loan. It is strange that you should have managed to make 
the poor old man's acquaintance, and to a certain degree suc- 
ceed with him, only in his last days. " 

“ Try and talk of something else, mother dear. It is all so 
ghastly and oppressive! Tell me about Ada and the boys . 99 

44 Ada was out when Mr. Newton came. I left a little note, 
telling her of your uncle's awfully sudden death, and of my 
intention of remaining with you until after the funeral. What 
a state of excitement she will be in. I have no doubt she will 
be here to-morrow." 

44 Very likely," said Katherine, who was pouring out tea. 

44 Did Mr. Newton mention to you that your uncle had 
written to him to come and draw up a new will?" 

44 Why, I wrote the note, which my uncle signed." 

44 Yes, of course; I had forgotten. But did Mr. Newton 
say that he had a faint hope that he might have destroyed the 
other will?" 

44 He did; but it is not probable." 

46 It would make an immense difference to us if he had." 

46 Would it?" asked Kate, to extract an answer from her 
mother. 

4 4 Mr. Newton believes that if he died intestate you would 
inherit everything." 

44 What! would not the little boys share?" 

64 I am not sure. But to get away from the subject, which 
somehow always draws me back to it, I have one bit of good 
news for you, my darling. I had a letter from Santley this 
morning. He will take my novel, and will give me a hun- 
dred and fifty pounds for it. " 

44 Really? Oh, this is glorious news! I am so delighted! 
Then you will get more for the next; you will become known 
and appreciated." 

44 Do not be too sure; it may be a failure. And at present 
I do not feel as if I should ever have any ideas again. My 
brain seems so weary!" 

44 Perhaps," whispered Katherine, 44 you may be able to 
rest. You are looking very tired and ill." 

Somewhat to her own surprise, Katherine slept profoundly 
that night. The delicious sense of comfort and security which 
her mother's presence brought soothed her ineffably. It 
seemed as if no harm could touch her while she felt the clasj') 
of those dear arms. 


106 


A CROOK KD PATH. 


The early forenoon brought Mr. Newton, and after a little 
preliminary talk respecting the arrangements he had made for 
the funeral, he proposed to look for the will which he had 
drawn up some years before, and which, to the best of his 
recollection, Mr. Liddell had taken charge of himself. 

44 Might you not wait until the poor old man is laid in his 
last home?” asked Mrs. Liddell. 

44 Perhaps it would be more seemly,” said the lawyer; 44 but 
it is almost necessary to know who is the heir and who is the 
executor. Besides, it is quite possible that since he signed the 
will I drew up for him in ’59, and to which I was executor, 
he may have made another, of which I know nothing, and I 
may have to communicate with some other executor. I will 
therefore begin the search at once. Would you and your 
daughter like to be present?” 

44 Thank you, no,” returned Mrs. Liddell. 

44 I would rather not,” said Katherine. 

Mr. Newton proceeded on his search alone, while Mrs. Lid- 
dell and her daughter went to the latter’s room, anxious to 
keep from meddling with what did not concern them. 

Scarcely had the former settled herself to write a letter to 
an old friend in Florence with whom she kept up a steady 
though not a frequent correspondence, when she was inter- 
rupted by a tap at the door. Before she could say 64 Come 
in,” it was opened to admit Mrs. Frederic Liddell, who came 
in briskly. She had taken out a black dress with crape on it, 
and retouched a mourning bonnet, so that she presented an 
appearance perfectly suited to the occasion. 

44 Oh, dear!” she cried, 44 1 have been in such a state ever 
since I had your note! I thought 1 should never get away this 
morning. The stupidity of those servants is beyond descrip- 
tion. Now do tell all about everything.” She sat down sud- 
denly, then jumped up, kissed her mother-in-law on the brow, 
and shook hands with Katherine. 

44 There is very little more to tell beyond what I said in my 
note,” returned Mrs. Liddell. 44 The poor old man never 
spoke or showed any symptom of life after he fell. Mr. New- 
ton, of course, will make all arrangements. The funeral will 
be on Friday, and Katherine and 1 will remain here till it is 
over.” 

44 And the will?” whispered Mrs. Frederic, eagerly. 44 Have 
you found out anything about that?” 

Mrs. Liddell shook her head. 44 1 have not even asked, so 
sure am I that it will not affect us in any way. Mr. Newton 


A CROOKED PATH. 107 

is now examining the bureau where my brother-in-law appears 
to have kept all his papers, hoping to find the will.” 

“ Is it not cruel to think of all this wealth passing away 
from us?” cried the little woman, in a tearful tone. 

“ I do net suppose that John Liddell was wealthy,” said 
Mrs. Liddell. “ He was very careful of what he had, but it 
does not follow that he had a great deal.” 

“Oh, nonsense! My dear Mrs. Liddell, you only say that 
to keep us quiet. Misers always have heaps of money. What 
do you say, Katherine?” 

“ That from all I saw I should say he was not rich. He 
never mentioned large sums of money, or — ” 

“ I do not mind you,” interrupted the young widow. “ You 
always affect to despise money.” 

“ Indeed I do not, Ada. I am only afraid of thinking too 
much of it.” Katherine perceived that her mother had wisely 
abstained from telling the whole circumstances to this most 
impulsive young person. 

“And do you mean to say,” pursued Mrs. Frederic, who 
could hardly keep still, so great was her excitement, “that 
the horrid lawyer is rummaging through the old man's papers 
all alone? You ought to be present, Mrs. Liddell. You don't 
know what tricks he may play. He may put a will in his own 
favor in some drawer. It is very weak not to have insisted on 
being present, and shows such indifference to our interests!” 

“ I am not afraid of Mr. Newton forging a will,” said Mrs. 
Liddell, smiling; “ and 1 greatly fear that whoever may profit 
by the old man's last testament, we will not. But I assure 
you, Mr. Newton did ask me to assist in the search, and I de- 
clined. Indeed, I asked him not to search while the poor re- 
mains were unburied. ” 

“ Why, my goodness! you do not mean to say you are pre- 
tending to be sorry for this rude — miser!” cried Mrs. Frederic, 
with uplifted hand and eyes. 

“ Personally I did not care about him, but, Ada, death de- 
mands respect.” 

“ Oh, yes, of course. Then there is absolutely nothing to 
do or to hear?'' 

“ Nothing,” said Katherine, rather shortly. 

“ Could I go out and buy anything for you? Surely the ex- 
ecutors, whoever they may be, will give you some money for 
mourning?” 

“I do not think it at all likely. I will tell you what you 
can do, Ada: go to my large cupboard and bring me,” etc., 
etc — sundry directions followed. “ Katherine and I can quite 


108 


A CROOKED PATH. 


well do all that is necessary ourselves to make a proper ap- 
pearance on Friday.” 

u Very well; and 1 will come to the funeral, too, and bring 
the boys. A little crape on their caps and sleeves will be quite 
enough. They will jwoduce a great effect. 1 dare say if I 
speak to Mrs. Burnettes friend, that newspaper man, he will 
put an account into the 4 Morning News/ with all our names. 
Whatever comes, it would have a good effect. ” 

44 Of course you can come if you like, Ada, but I would not 
bring the boys. Children are out of place except at a parent’s 
grave . 99 

44 Well, I do not agree with you, and I do not think you 
need grudge my poor children that much recognition.” 

44 Poor darlings! Do you believe we could grudge them 
anything that was good for them?” cried Katherine. 

44 Oh, there is no knowing! Pray, is there any plate in the 
house, Katherine, or diamonds? You know the nephew’s 
wife ought to have the diamonds!” 

4 4 Do not make me laugh, Ada, while the poor man is lying 
dead!” exclaimed Katherine, smiling. 44 The idea of plate 
or diamonds in this house is too funny!” 

44 Then are the spoons and forks only Sheffield ware?” 
asked Jier sister-in-law. 44 How mean!” 

After a good deal more cross-examination Mrs. Fred rose to 
depart, her pretty childish face clouded, not to say very cross. 

44 1 might have saved myself the trouble of coming here,” 
she said. 

44 We are very glad to see you, and it will be a great help if 
you can send or bring the things I want.” 

44 Perhaps, if I wait a little longer, this admirable Mr. New- 
ton may find something,” resumed Mrs. Fred, pausing, and 
reluctant to move. 

44 If he does 1 will let you know immediately,” said Kath- 
erine; 44 but there are numbers of little drawers in the bureau; 
it will take him a long time to look through them all.” 

44 Have you seen the inside of it?” asked Mrs. Fred, 
greedily. 

44 1 have seen my uncle writing at it,” returned Katherine, 
44 but I never had an opportunity of examining it. ” 

44 Well, I suppose I had better go. I am evidently not 
wanted here!” exclaimed Mrs. Frederic, longing to quarrel 
with some one, being in that condition of mind aptly described 
as 44 not knowing what to be at.” Finding no help from her 
auditors, she went reluctantly away. 

“ I wish poor Ada would not allow her imagination to run 


A CROOKED PATH. 


109 


away with her. It will be such a disappointment when she 
finds it is all much ado about nothing/* said Mrs. Liddell, as 
she returned to her letter. 44 1 am afraid, Katie dear, you 
have had a great shock; you do not look a bit like yourself. ** 

44 1 feel dazed and stupid, but I dare say I shall be all right 
to-morrow.** She took a book and pretended to read, while 
her mother*s pen scratched lightly and quickly over the paper. 

The light was beginning to change, when a message from 
Mr. Newton summoned both mother and daughter to the sit- 
ting-room, where they found him awaiting them. 

44 I have looked most carefully through the bureau, and can 
find no sign of the will. There are various papers and ac- 
count-baoks, a very clear statement of his affairs, and about a 
hundred and fifteen pounds of ready money, but no will. I 
have also looked in his writing-table drawer, his wardrobe, and 
every possible and impossible place. It may be at my office, 
though I am under the impression he took charge of it him- 
self. There is a possibility he may have deposited it at his 
banker*s or his stock-broker *s, though that is not probable.** 

44 It is curious/* remarked Mrs. Liddell, feeling she must 
say something. 

44 Pray/* resumed Newton, addressing Katherine, 44 have 
you ever seen him tearing up or burning papers?** 

She thought for a moment, and then said, quietly: 44 No, I 
never have.** 

44 1 can do no more here, at least to-day/* Newton went on. 
44 1 must bid you a good-afternoon. You may be sure I will 
leave nothing undone to discover the missing will, and I can 
only say 1 earnestly hope I may not be successful.** 


CHAPTER X. 

44 FRUITION. * * 

The funeral over, Mrs. Liddell and her daughter went back 
to their modest home, feeling as though they had passed 
through some strange dream, which had vanished, leaving 
44 not a wrack behind. ** 

To Katherine it was like fresh life to return to the natural 
cheerful routine of her daily cares and employments, to strug- 
gle good-humoredly with indifferent servants, to do battle with 
her little nephews over their lessons, to walk with them and 
tell them stories. At times she almost forgot that the diligent- 
ly sought will lay in its innocent-looking cover among her 
clothes, or that any results would flow from her daring ami 
criminal act; then again the consciousness of having weighted 


110 


A CROOKED PATH. 


her life with a secret she must never reveal would press pain- 
fully upon her, and make her greedy for the moment when 
Mr. Newton would relinquish the search, and she should reap 
the harvest she expected. 

She never believed that her uncle was as rich as Ada sup- 
posed, but she did hope for a small fortune which might secure 
comfort and ease. 

Mrs. Frederic Liddell was a real affliction during this period. 
The idea of inheriting John Liddell's supposed wealth was 
never absent from her thoughts, and seldom from her lips. 
Even the boys were infected by her gorgeous anticipations. 

“ I shall have a pony like that, and a groom to ride beside 
me,” Cecil would cry when his attention was caught* by any 
young equestrian. “ And I will give you a ride, auntie. 
Shall you have a carriage too, or will you drive with mammy ?" 

“ And I shall have a beautiful dog, like Mrs. Burnett's, 
and a garden away in the country / 7 was Charlie's scheme. 
“You shall come and dig in it, auntie." 

“ Do not think of such things, my dears," was auntie's 
usual reply. “ I am afraid we shall never be any richer than 
we are; so you must be diligent boys, and work hard to make 
fortunes for yourselves. " 

“Where did Uncle Liddell keep all his money?" was one 
of Cecil's questions in reply. “ Did he keep it in big bags 
down-stairs? He hadn't a nice house; it was quite a nasty 
one." 

• “ Had he a big place in a cave, with trees that grow rubies 
and diamonds and beautiful things?" added Charlie. 

“ Why doesn't mamma buy us some ponies now?" con- 
tinued Cis; “ we should be some time learning to ride." 

“ I will not listen to you any more if you talk so foolishly. 
Try and think of something else — of the Christmas pantomime. 
You know grannie says you shall go if you do your lessons 
well," returned Katherine. 

“ It isn't silly!" exclaimed Cecil. “ Mammy tells us we 
must take care of her when we are rich men, and that we shall 
be able to hold up our heads as high as any one. I can hold 
up my head noiv . " 

Such conversations were of frequent occurrence, and kept 
Katherine in a state of mental irritation. 

Toward the end of October Mrs. Burnett brought relief in 
the shape of an invitation to Mrs. Frederic. 

The Burnett family were spending the “ dark days before 
Christmas " at Brighton, and thither hied the lively young 
widow in great glee. Tilings generally went smoother in her 


A CROOKED PATH. Ill 

absence: the boys were more obedient, the meals more 
punctual. 

Nevertheless, Katherine observed that her mother did not 
settle to her writing as usual. Occasionally she shut herself 
up in the study, but when Katherine came in. unexpectedly 
she generally found her resting her elbow on the table and her 
head on her hand, gazing at the blank sheet before her, or 
leaning back in her chair, evidently lost in thought. 

“ You do not seem to take much to your writing, mother 
dear,” said Katherine one morning as she entered and sat 
down on a stool beside her. 

“ In truth I can not, Katie. I do not know how it is, but 
no plots will come. I have generally been able to devise some- 
thing on which to hang my characters and events; but my in- 
vention, such as it is — or rather was — seems dried up and 
withered. What shall I do if my slight vein is exhausted? 
Heaven knows I produced nothing very original or remark- 
able, but my lucubrations were saleable, and I do not see how 
we can do without this source of income. ” 

“You only want rest,” returned Katherine, taking her 
hand and laying her cheek against it. “ Your fancy wants a 
quiet sleep, and then it will wake up fresh and bright. Take 
a holiday; put away pen, ink, and paper; and you will be able 
to write a lovely story long before the money we expect for 
your novel is expended . 9 9 

“ I hope so.” She paused, and then resumed, with a sigh: 
“ 1 ought to have more sense and self-control at my age, but 
I confess that the uncertainty about John JjiddelFs will ab- 
sorbs me. Suppose, Katie, that his money were to come to 
you. Imagine you and I rich enough not to be afraid of the 
week after next! Why, our lives would be too blissful.” 

“They would,” murmured Katherine. “When do you 
think we shall know?” 

“ I can not tell. All possible search must be made before 
the law can be satisfied. My own impression is that your 
uncle did destroy his will, intending to make a different dis- 
tribution of his money, and to provide for you. ” 

“ Yes, I believe he did,” said Katherine, quietly. “ I wish 
— oh, I do wish my uncle had had time to divide his property 
between us all; then there would be no ill feeling. But I sup- 
pose Cis and Charlie will get some, even if no will is found?” 

“ I have no idea. If poor Fred had lived, I suppose he 
would take a share.” 

They sat silent for some minutes. Then Kate rose and very 
deliberately shut up her mother’s writing-book, collected her 


112 


A CROOKED PATH. 


papers and rough note-book, and locked them away in Jier 
drawer. “Now, dearest mother/* she said, “promise me 
not to open that drawer for ten days at least, unless a T^ery 
strong inspiration comes to you. By that time we may know 
something certain about the will, and at any rate you will have 
had change of occupation. Then put on your bonnet and let 
us go to see our friend Mrs. Wray. Perhaps she may let us 
see her husband’s studio, and if he is there we are sure to have 
some interesting talk. We both sorely need a change of 
ideas. ” 

Mrs. Frederic Liddell returned from Brighton in a very 
thoughtful mood. She said she had had a “ heavenly visit. ” 
Such nice weather — such a contrast to dirty, dreary, depress- 
ing London! She had met several old acquaintances, they 
had had company every night, and had she only had a third 
evening-dress her bliss would have been complete. As it was, 
a slight sense of inferiority had taken the keen edge off her 
joy. “At any rate, the men didn’t seem to think there was 
much amiss with me. Sir Ralph Brereton and Colonel Or- 
monde were really quite troublesome. I do not much like Sir 
Ralph. I never know if he is laughing at me or not, though 
I am sure I do not think there is anything to laugh at in me. 
Colonel Ormonde is so kind and sensible! Do you know, Mrs. 
Liddell, he says 1 ought to see Mr. Newton myself, to look 
after the interests of my darling boys, and — and try to ascer- 
tain the true state of affairs. That is what Colonel Ormonde 
says, and I suppose you wouldn’t mind, Mrs. Liddell?” she 
ended, in a rather supplicating tone; for she was just a little 
in awe of her mother-in-law, kind and indulgent though she 
was. 

4 4 Go and see Mr. Newton by all means, Ada, if you feel it 
would be any satisfaction to you; but until the right time 
comes it will be very useless to make any inquiries. We leave 
it all to Mr. Newton.” 

44 Oh, you and Katherine are so cold and immovable; you 
are not a bit like me. I am all sensitiveness and impulse. 
Well, if it is not raining cats and dogs I will go into that 
awful city and see Mr. Newton to-morrow.” 

44 Would it not be well to make an appointment?” 

“ Oh, dear, no! I will take my chande; 1 would not write. 
Katie dear, I have torn all the flounce off my black and white 
dinner-dress; you are so much more clever with your needle 
than I am, would you sew it on for me to-morrow?” 

44 No, I can not, Ada — not to-morrow at least. I am busy 


A CROOKED PATH. 


113 


altering mother's winter cloak, and she has nothing warm to 
put on until it is finished. I will show you how to arrange 
the flounce, and you will sooii do it yourself if you try." 

“ Very well " — rather sulkily. I am sure I was intended 

to he a rich man's wife, I am so helpless." 

“ And I am sure I was born under ‘ a three-halfpenny con- 
stellation,' as L. E. L. said, for I rather like helping myself," 
returned Katherine, laughing. “ Only I should like to have 
a little exterior help besides." 

“ Do you know, Katherine, I am afraid you are very proud. 
1 believe you think yourself the cleverest girl in the world." 

“ I should be much happier if I did," said Katherine, good- 
humoredly. “ Don't be a goose, Ada; let my disposition 
alone. I am afraid it is too decidedly formed to be altered. " 

“ Colonel Ormonde was asking for you," resumed Mrs. 
Frederic, fearing she had allowed her temper too much play. 
6 6 He is quite an admirer of yours. " 

“ I am much obliged to him. Would you like to come to 
the theater to-night? Mr. and Mrs. Wray have a box at the 
Adelphi, and have offered us two places. My mother thought 
you might like to go." 

“ With the Wrays? No, thank you. I never seem to get 
on with them; and if Colonel Ormonde happens to be there 
(and he might, for he is in town to-day), I should not care to 
be seen with them; they are not at all in society, you know." 

“ True," said Katherine, with perfect equanimity. “ Then, 
dear mother, do come. Nothing takes you out of yourself so 
much as a good play. I shall enjoy it more if you are with us. " 

After a little discussion Mrs. Liddell agreed to go, and Mrs. 
Frederic retired to unpack, and to see what repairs were neces- 
sary, in a somewhat sulky mood. 

The following morning Mrs. Liddell's head was aching so 
severely that her daughter would not allow her to get up. She 
therefore gave her sister-in-law an early luncheon, and saw 
her set forth on her visit to Mr. Newton. She was a little 
nervous about it; she wished Katherine to go with her, and 
yet she did not wish it. 

She attired herself completely in black, and managed to 
give a mournful “ distressed widow " aspect to her toilet: the 
little woman was an artist in her way, so long as her subject 
was self and its advantages. Then Katherine devoted herself 
to her mother, who had taken a chill. It grieved her to see 
how the slightest indisposition preyed upon her strength. 

The period of waiting was terribly long and wearing. Had 
she, after all, committed herself to an ever-gnawing loss of 


114 


A CROOKED PATH. 


self-respect to enrich another? Katherine asked herself this 
question more than once. 

She had refrained from troubling Mr. Newton with fruitless 
questions or impatient expressions, and her mother admired 
her forbearance. But in truth Katherine hated to approach 
the subject of her possible inheritance, though she never 
faltered in her purpose of keeping the existence of her uncle's 
will a profound secret. 

Mrs. Frederic Liddell returned from her visit to the friendly 
lawyer rather sooner than Katherine expected. 

The moment she entered the drawing-room, where the lat- 
ter was dusting the few china and other ornaments, her coun- 
tenance evinced unusual disturbance. 

“ I am sure," she began, in a very high key, “ if I had 
known what I was going to encounter, I should have stayed at 
home. There's no justice in this world for the widow and the 
fatherless." 

44 1 can not believe that Mr. Newton could be rude or un- 
kind!" exclaimed Katherine, much startled. 

“I do not say he was," returned Mrs. Fred, snappishly. 
“ But either he is a stupid old idiot, or he has been telling me 
abominable stories. I don't — I can't believe them! Do you 
know he says he, they, all the old rogues together, believed 
that wretched miser had destroyed his will and died intestate, 
and that every penny will be yours. Not a sou comes to the 
widow and children of the nephew* It is preposterous. It is 
the most monstrous injustice. If it is law, an act of Parlia- 
ment ought to be passed to — to do away with it. Fancy your 
having everything, and me, my boys and myself, dependent on 
you /" — scornful emphasis on “ you." 

“ Is this possible?" exclaimed Katherine, dropping her 
duster in dismay. “I thought that the property would be 
divided between the boys and myself." 

44 Why, that is only common sense! If you do get every- 
thing you will be well rewarded for your three months' penal 
servitude. You knew what you were about, though you do 
despise rank and riches. " 

44 But, Ada, I suppose my uncle would have destroyed his 
will whether I had been there or not. " 

44 No. Mr. Newton's idea is that he intended to make a 
new will, probably leaving you a large sum, and so destroyed 
the old one. Mr. Newton thinks he grew to like you. Oh! 
you played your cards well! But it is too hard to think you 
cut out my dar-arling boys," she ended, with a sob. 

Katherine grew very white: this outburst of fury roused her 


A CROOKED PATH. 


115 


conscience. She pulled herself together in an instant of quick 
thought, however. 44 This is folly. What 1 have done will 
benefit the boys more than myself/ ' she reflected. 

44 I do not wonder at your being vexed, Ada,” she said, 
gently. 4 4 But fortunately one is not compelled to act accord- 
ing to law. If the whole of the fortune, whatever it may be, 
becomes mine, do you think I would keep it all to myself f” 

44 I am sure I don't know,” said Mrs. Frederic, who had 
now subsided into the sulks. 44 When people get hold of 
money they seldom like to part with it; and I know you do 
not like me 9” 

44 Why should you think so, Ada? We may not agree in 
our tastes, but that is no reason for dislike; and you know 
how glad I am to be of use to you, both for your own sake and 
poor Fred's.” 

44 Well, I would rather not be dependent on you or any one. 
But there! I do not believe what that stupid old man says — I 
do not believe such a horrible law exists. I shall write and 
consult Colonel Ormonde, and find out if 1 could not dispute 
the will — no, not the will — the property. I should not like to 
give up my rights. ” 

44 Please, Ada, do not speak so loudly. My mother had just 
fallen asleep before you came in; and she had such a bad 
night!” 

44 Loud? I am not talking loudly. You mean to insinuate 
I am in a passion? I am nothing of the kind. I am per- 
fectly cool, but determined — determined to have justice, and 
my fair share of this man's wealth!” 

44 It may not be wealth; it may be only competence, and it 
is not ours to share yet.” 

44 Not yours, you mean; that is what you thought , Kath- 
erine. And as to wealth, I believe that cruel old miser was 
enormously rich! Where are the boys?” 

44 Out walking with Lottie. I am so glad they were not in 
to hear all this! Do not talk to them of being rich, dear Ada; 
it puts unhealthy ideas into their minds, and — ” 

44 Upon my word! 1 like to hear you , a m^e girl, not 
quite nineteen yet, advising me, a mother, a married woman, 
about my own children. You need not presume on your ex- 
pected riches. I’ll never play the part of a poor relation, and 
submit to be lectured by you.” 

Her sister-in-law's stings and passing fits of ill-humor never 
irritated Katherine unless they worried her mother, nor did 
this most unwonted outburst of irrepressible indignation, but 
it distressed her. 44 Come, Ada, don't be cross,” she said. 





116 


A CROOKED PATH. 


It was perhaps want of tact in me to suggest anything, 
though my idea is right enough. It is quite natural that you 
should be awfully vexed. Perhaps Mr. Newton is wrong; at 
all events, if the law is unjust, 1 need not act unjustly, and 
believe me, 1 will not/* 

“ I hope not/* returned the young widow, a little mollified. 
“ I always believe you haven* t a bad heart, Katherine, though 
you have a disagreeable sullen temper. Now 1 am too open; 
you see the worst of me at once; but I do not remember un- 
kindness; and if you do what is right in this, I — I shall always 
speak of you as you deserve. Do get me something to eat; I 
am awfully hungry, and though I hate beer, I will take some; 
it is better than nothing. How you go on on water I can not 
imagine; it will ruin your digestion.** 

So they went amicably enough into the dining-room to- 
gether, one to be ministered to, the other to minister. 

Here the boys joined them; but for a wonder their mother 
was silent respecting her visit to the lawyer, and soon went 
away to write to Colonel Ormonde, on whom she had con- 
ferred, unasked, the office of prime counselor and referee. 
This opened up a splendid field for letters full of flattering 
appeals to his wisdom and judgment, and touching little con- 
fessions of her own weakness, folly, and need for guidance. 

“ Dear Miss Liddell, — I should be glad if you could call 
on Tuesday next about one o*clock. I have various docu- 
ments to show you, or 1 should not give you the trouble to 
come here. If Mrs. Liddell is disengaged and could come also 
it would be well. I am yours faithfully, 


“ A. Newtoh.** 


Such was the letter which the first post brought to Katherine 
about six weeks after the death of John Liddell. 

Katherine, who always rose and dressed first, found it on 
the table when she went down to give the boys their breakfast, 
to coax the fire to burn up brightly if it were inclined to be 
sulky, and to make the coffee for her mother and Mrs. Fred. 

As soon a? she had seen the two little men at work on their 
bread and milk she flew back to her mother. 

“ Do read this! Do you think that Mr. Newton wants me 
because I am to have my uncle*s money at last?** 

“ Yes, I do. There can be no other reason for his wishing 
to see you, dearest child. What a wonderful change it will 
make if this is the case! I can then cease to mourn the failure 
of my poor powers, and let the publishers go free. My love. 


A CROOKED PATH. 117 

I did not think anything could affect you so much. You are 
white and trembling.” 

“ T have been more anxious than you knew,” returned Kath- 
erine, who felt strangely overcome, curiously terrified, at the 
near approach of success — the success she had ventured on so 
daring an act to secure. “ I greatly feared some other claim- 
ant — some other will, I mean — might be found. ” 

“ Yes, I feared too. Yet there could be no claimant, apart 
from another will. Poor George, your uncle's only son, was 
killed, I remember. Take a little water, dear, and sit down. 
No, I did not fear another claimant when I thought, but I 
feared to hope too much.” 

“ I feel all right now, mother. Such a prospect does not 
kill. Suppose we say nothing to Ada — she will worry our 
lives out — not at least till we know our fate certainly?” 

“ Perhaps it will be better not.” 

“ And whatever 1 get we will share with the dear children, 
and give Ada some too. Oh, darling mother, think of our 
being alone together again, and tolerably at ease!” 

It would be wearisome to the reader were the details of the 
interview with Mr. Newton minutely recorded. 

He was evidently relieved and delighted to announce that 
all attempts to find the will had failed, and explained at some 
length to his very attentive listeners the steps to be taken and 
the particulars of the property bequeathed; how it devolved 
on Katherine to take out letters of administration; how at her 
age she had the power of choosing her own guardian for the 
two years which must elapse before she was of age; and finally 
that the large amount of which she had become mistress was 
so judiciously invested that he (Mr. Newton) could advise no 
change save the transference of stock to her name. 

As it dawned upon Katherine that the sum she inherited 
amounted to something over eighty thousand pounds, sh^felt 
dizzy with surprise and fear. She had no idea she had befeti 
playing for such stakes. The sense of sudden responsibility 
pressed upon her: her hands trembled and her cheek paled. 

“ My dear young lady, you look as if you had met a loss 
instead of gaining a fortune,” said Mr. Newton, looking kind- 
ly at her. “ I have no doubt you will make a good use of 
your money, and 1 trust will enjoy many happy days.” 

4 6 But my nephews, my sister-in-law, do they get nothing?” 

“ Not a penny. Of course you can, when of age, settle 
some portion upon them.” 

“ I certainly will; but in the meantime — ” 


118 


A CROOKED PATH. 


“ In the meantime 1 will take care that you have a proper 
allowance. ” 

“ Thank you, dear Mr. Newton. Do get me something big 
enough to make us all comfortable, and 1 can share with Ada 
— with Mrs. Frederic. I do so want to take my mother abroad, 
and I could not leave Ada and the boys unless they were well 
provided for. ” 

44 Make your mind easy; the court will allow you a hand- 
some income. So you must cheer up, in spite of the infliction 
of a large fortune,” added Mr. Newton, with unwonted jocu- 
larity. 

44 Both Katherine and myself are warmly grateful for your 
kind sympathy,” said Mrs. Liddell, softly. Then, after a 
short pause, she asked: 44 Do you know what became of Mr. 
Liddell’s unfortunate wife?” 

“ She died eleven or twelve years ago. The family of — of 
the man she lived with had the audacity to apply for money, 
on account of her funeral, I think, and so I came to know she 
was dead. It was a sad business. The poor woman had a 
WTetched life, but I don’t think she was in any want.” 

44 I only asked, because if she were in poverty — 99 

44 Oh,” interrupted the lawyer, 44 if she were alive, she would 
have her share of the estate, as her marriage was never dis- 
( solved.” 

A short pause ensued, and then Newton asked if Miss Lid- 
dell would like some money, as he would be happy to draw a 
check for any sum she required. Then indeed Katherine felt 
that her days of difficulty were over. 

Mrs. Liddell and her daughter were in no hurry to leave 
their humble home. In truth Katherine was more frightened 
than elated at the amount of property she had inherited, and 
would have felt a little less guilty had she only succeeded in 
o^aining a moderate competence. 

A curious stunned feeling made her incapable of her usual 
activity for the first few days, and averse even to plan for the 
future. 

She kept her sister-in-law quiet by a handsome present of 
money wherewith to buy a fresh outfit for herself and her boys. 
Finally she roused up sufficiently to persuade Mrs. Liddell to 
see an eminent physician, for she did not seem to gather 
strength as rapidly as her daughter expected. 

The great man, after a careful examination, said there was 
nothing very wrong; the nervous system seemed to be a good 
deal exhauste d and the bronchial attack of the previous year 


A CROOKED PATH. 119 

had left the lungs delicate, but that with care she might live 
to old age. 

He directed, however, that Mrs. Liddell should go as soon 
as possible to a southern climate. He recommended Cannes 
or San Eemo — indeed it would be advisable that several win- 
ters in future should be spent in a more genial atmosphere 
than that of England. 

This advice exactly suited the wishes both of Katherine and 
her mother. 

How easy it was to make arangements in their altered cir- 
cumstances! How magical are the effects of money! How 
quickly Katherine grew accustomed to the unwonted ease . of 
her present lot! If — oh, if — she were ever found out, how 
should she bear it? How could she endure the pinch of pov- 
erty, added to the poison of shame? But the idea that all this 
wealth was really hers gained on her, while her fears were 
lulled to sleep by a pleasant sense of comfort and security. 

Mrs. Frederic Liddell was' a good deal disturbed on hearing 
that her mother-in-law was ordered abroad. 

“ Pray, what is to become of meV y was her first question 
when Katherine announced the doctors verdict. They were 
sitting over the fire in the drawing-room, after the boys had 
said good-night. 

“ Would you prefer staying in England?” asked Mrs. Lid- 
dell. 

“ For some reasons I should, but you know I must have 
something to live on. ” 

“ I know that,” returned Katherine. “ As 1 can not exe- 
cute any deed of gift for two years, 1 think I had better give 
you an allowance for yourself and the boys, and let you do as 
you like. I have talked with Mr. Newton about it.” 

“ Well, dear, 1 think it would be the best plan,” said Mrs. 
Frederic, amiably. “I have not the least scruple in taking 
the money, because you know it ought really to be ours. ” 

“ Exactly,” returned Katherine, with a slight smile, ‘ted 
she named so liberal a sum that even Mrs. Fred was satisfied. 

“ Well, I am sure that is very nice, dear,” she said; “ and 
when you are of age will you settle it on my precious boys?” 

“I will,” replied Katherine, deliberately; “and I hope 
always to see a great deal of them.” 

“ Of course you will; but you will not long be Katherine 
Liddell. When Mr. Wright comes, my boys will get leave to 
stay with their mother as much as they like.” 

“I do not think I shall easily forget them, even i£ Mr.. 
Eight appears*” said Katherine, good-humoredly* 


120 


A CROOKED PATH. 


44 What a strange girl Katie is!” pursued her sister-in-law. 

4 4 Was she never in love, Mrs. Liddell? Had she never any 
admirers?” 

44 Not that I know of, x\da. ” 

44 Oh! I have been in love many times!” cried Katherine, 
laughing. 44 Don’t you remember, mother, the Russian prince 
I used to dance with at Madame du Lac’s juvenile parties? — I 
made quite a romance about him; and that young Austrian — 
I forget his name — whom we met at Stuttgart, Baron Holden- 
berg’s nephew; he was charming, to say nothing of Lohen- 
grin and Tannhauser. I have quite a long list of loves, 
Ada. Oh, I should like to dance again! To float round to 
the music of a delightful Austrian band would be charming. ” 

44 My dear Katherine, that is all nonsense, as you will find 
out one day.” Then, after some moments of evidently severe 
reflection, her brows knit, and her soft, baby-like lips pressed 
together, she said: 44 1 think I should like to move nearer 
town, and get a nice nursery governess for Cis and Charlie, 
and — Don’t you think it would be a good plan?” 

44 The governess, yes, as they will lose their present one 
when Katherine goes. But why not stay on here till next 
autumn, when the lease or agreement expires? You will have 
it all to yourself in about ten days, and it will be quite large 
enough,” said Mrs. Liddell. 

44 Stay on here!” began her daughter-in-law, in a high key, 
and with a look of great disgust. She stopped herself sudden- 
ly, however, smoothed her brow, and added: 44 Well, I will 
think about it,” after which, with unusual self-control, she 
changed the subject, and talked gravely about governesses, 
their salaries and qualifications, till it was time to go to bed. 

A few days after this conversation the house was invaded by 
a host of applicants for the post of instructress to the two lit- 
tle boys. Every shade of complexion, all possible accomplish- 
nn^s, the most varied and splendid testimonials, were present- 
ed 1 to the bewildered little widow, in consequence of her 
application to a governesses’ institution. She was fain to ask 
Katherine to help her in choosing, much to the latter’s satis- 
faction, as she did not like to offer assistance, though she 
wished to influence the choice of a preceptress. Together they 
fixed on a quiet, kindly looking young woman, to whom both 
took rather a fancy, and Katherine felt very much relieved to 
know that this important point was settled. 

But Mrs. Frederic did not seem at ease; there was a rest- 
lessness about her, a disinclination to leave the house, that at- 
tracted Katherine’s notice, although she was much occupied 


A CROOKED PATH. 


121 


with preparations for their departure. At last the mystery 
was solved. 

One afternoon Mrs. Liddell and Katherine had been a good 
deal later than usual in returning home, having determined to 
finish their shopping and take a few days* complete rest before 
starting on their travels. 

Mrs. Frederic met them with a heightened color and a 
curious embarrassed look. The drawing-room was lighted by 
a splendid fire, and sweet with the perfume of abundant hot- 
house flowers; there was something vaguely prophetic in 
the air. 

4 4 Do come to the fire, dear Mrs. Liddell; you must be so 
cold! 1 have been quite uneasy about you,” she exclaimed, 
effusively. 

44 Have you had a visitor, Ada?” asked Katherine, whose 
suspicions were aroused. 

44 1 have, and I want to tell you all about it. I am far too 
candid to keep anything from those I love. My visitor was 
Colonel Ormonde. He asked me to marry him, and — and, 
dear Mrs. Liddell — Katherine — I hope you will not be offend- 
ed, but I — I said I would,” burst forth Mrs. Frederic; and 
then she burst into tears. 

There was a minute's silence. Katherine flushed crimson, 
and did not speak, but Mrs. Liddell said kindly: 44 My dear 
Ada, if you think Colonel Ormonde will make you happy and 
be kind to the boys, you are quire right. I never expected a 
young creature like you to five alone for the rest of your ex- 
istence, and I believe Colonel Ormonde is a man of character 
and position.” 

44 He is indeed,” cried Ada, falling on her mother-in-law's 
neck. 44 You are the wisest, kindest woman in the world. 
And you, Katherine?” 

44 1 do hope you will be very , very happy,” responded Kath- 
erine; 44 but 1 must say I think he is rather too old for you. 
That, however, is your affair.” 

44 Yes, of course it is ” — leaving Mrs. Liddell to hug Kath- 
erine. 44 1 am quite fond of him; that is, 1 esteem and like 
him. Of course I shall never love any one as I did my dear, 
darling Fred; but 1 do want some one to help me with the 
boys, and Marmaduke (that's his name) is quite fond of them. 
So now, dear Mrs. Liddell, I will stay on here till — till I am 
married, if you don't mind.” 

44 It is the best thing you can do, Ada. I wish we could 
stay and be present at your marriage. " 

44 But that is impossible,” cried Katherine. 


122 


A CKOOKED PATH. 


“ And not at all necessary/’ added Mrs. Frederic, hastily. 
“ My friend Mrs. Burnett will help me in every way, and I 
have been trouble enough already.” 

“ I do not think so,” said Mrs. Liddell, quietly. “ But I 
am very weary. I will go to my room. Katie dear, bring 
me some tea presently.” 

And the widow escaped to rest, perhaps to weep over the 
bright boy so dear to her, so soon forgotten by the wife of his 
bosom. 

Not many days after, Katherine and her mother set forth 
upon their travels, leaving nothing they regretted save the two 
little boys, respecting whose fate Katherine felt anything but 
satisfied. Of this she said nothing to her mother. And so, 
with temporary forgetfulness of the deed which was destined 
to color her whole life, she saw the curtain fall on the first act 
of her story. 


CHAPTER XI. 

“a hew phase.” 

“ Ah interval of three weeks — six months — ten years,” as 
the case may be — “ is supposed to have elapsed since the last 
act. ” This is a very commonly used expression in play -bills, 
and there seems no just cause or impediment why a story-teller 
should not avail himself of the same device to waft the patient 
reader over an uneventful period, during which the hero or 
heroine has been granted * a “ breathing space” between the 
ebb and flow of harrowing adventures and moving incidents. 

It was, then, more than two years since the last chapter, 
and a still cold day at the end of February — still and some- 
what damp — in one of the midland shires — say Clayshire. 
The dank hedges and sodden fields had a melancholy aspect, 
which seemed to affect a couple of horsemen who were walking 
their jaded, much-splashed horses along a narrow road, or 
rather lane, which led between a stretch of pasture-land on 
one side and a plowed field on the other. The red coats and 
top-boots of both were liberally besprinkled with mud; even 
their hats had not quite escaped. Their steeds hung their 
heads and moved languidly; both horses and riders had evi- 
dently had a hard day’s work. Presently the road sloped 
somewhat steeply to a hollow sheltered at one side by a steep 
bank overgrown with brushwood and large trees. The coun- 
try behind the huntsmen was rather flat and very open, but 
from this point it became broken and wooded, sloping gradu- 
ally up toward a distant range of low blue hills. 


A CBOOKED PATH. 


123 


“Ha, you blundering idiot !" exclaimed the elder of the 
two men, pulling up his horse, a powerful roan, as he stum- 
bled at the beginning of the descent. He was a big heavy 
man with a red face, thick gray mustache, and small, angry- 
looking eyes. “ He'll break my neck some day." 

“ Don't take away his character," returned his companion, 
laughing. “ Kemember he has had a hard run, and you are 
not a feather-weight." The speaker was tall (judging from 
the length of the well-shaped leg which lay close against his 
horse's side), large-framed, and bony; his plain strong face 
was tanned to swarthiness by exposure to wind and weather; 
moreover, a pair of deepset dark eyes and long, nearly black 
mustache showed that he had been no fair, ruddy youth to be- 
gin with. 

“ Ho, by Jove!" exclaimed the first speaker, “ I don't un- 
derstand how it is that 1 grow so infernally stout. I am sure 
I take exercise enough, and live most temperately. " 

“Exercise! Yes, for five or six months; the rest of the 
twelve you do nothing. And as to living temperately, what 
with a solid breakfast, a heavy luncheon, and a serious dinner, 
you manage to consume a good deal in the twenty-four hours. " 

“ Come, De Burgh! Hang it, I rarely eat lunch." 

“ Only when you can get it. Say two hundred and ninety 
times out of the three hundred and sixty-five days of the year. " 

“ I admit nothing of the sort. The fact is, what I eat goes 
into a good skin. How you might cram the year round and 
be a bag of bones at the end of it." 

“ Thank God for all His mercies," replied De Burgh. 
“ The fact is, you are a spoiled favorite of fortune, and in 
addition to alb the good things you have inherited you pick up 
a charming wife who spoils you and coddles you in a way to 
make the mouth of an unfortunate devil like myself water 
with envy. " 

“ Hone of that nonsense, De Burgh," complacently. “ The 
heart of a benedict knoweth its own bitterness, though I can't 
complain much. If you hadn't been the reckless roue you 
are, you might have been as well off as myself." 

De Burgh laughed. “ You see, I never cared for domestic 
bliss. I hate fetters of every description, and 1 lay the ruin 
of my morals to the score of that immortal old relative of mine 
who persists in keeping me out of my heritage. The convic- 
tion that you are always sure of an estate, and possibly thirty 
thousand a year, has a terrible effect on one's character." 

“ If you had stuck to the service you'd have been high up 


124 


A CROOKED PATH. 


by this time, with the reputation you made in the Mutiny 
time, for you were little more than a boy then.” 

4 4 Ay, or low down! Not that I should have much to regret 
if I were. I have had a lot of enjoyment out of life, however, 
but at present 1 am coming to the end of my tether. I am 
afraid I'll have to sell the few acres that are left to me, and if 
that gets to the baron's ears, good-bye to my chance of his 
bequeathing me the fortune he has managed to scrape together 
between windfalls and lucky investments. The late baroness 
had a pot of money, you know.” 

44 1 know there's not much property to go with the title.” 

44 A beggarly five thousand a year. I say, Ormonde, are 
you disposed for a good thing? Lend me three thousand on 
good security? Six per cent., old man!” 

4 4 1 am not so disposed, my dear fellow ! I have a wife and 
my boy to think of now.” 

44 Exactly,” returned the other, with a sneer. 44 You have 
a new edition of Colonel Ormonde's precious self.” 

44 Oh, your sneers don't touch me! You always had your 
humors; still I am willing to help a kinsman, and I will give 
you a chance if you like. What do you say to a rich young 
wife — none of your crooked sticks?” 

44 It's an awful remedy for one's financial disease to mort- 
gage one's self instead of one's property; still I suppose I'll 
have to come to it. Who is the proposed mortgagee?” 

44 My wife's sister.” 

44 Oh!” 

The tone of this 44 Oh!” was in some unaccountable way 
offensive to Colonel Ormonde. 44 Miss Liddell comes of a very 
good old county family, I can tell you,” he said, quickly; 44 a 
branch of the Somerset Liddells; and when I saw her last she 
was the making of an uncommon fine woman.” 

44 But your wife was a Mrs. Liddell, was she not?” 

44 Yes. This girl is her sister-in-law, really, but Mrs. Or- 
monde looks on her as a sister.” 

44 Hum! She has the cash? I suj)pose you know all 
about it?” 

44 Well, yes, you may be sure of sixty or seventy thousand, 
which would keep you going till Lord de Burgh joins the ma- 
jority.” 

44 Yes, that might do; so 4 trot her out.' ” 

44 She is coming to stay with us in a week or two, before the 
hunting is quite over, so you will be down here still.” 

44 1 suspect I shall. The lease of the lodge won't be out till 
next September, and I may as well stay there as anywhere. ” 


A CROOKED PATH. 


125 


“ Katherine Liddell is quite unincumbered; she has neither 
father nor mother, nor near relation of any kind; in fact Mrs. 
Ormonde and myself are her next friends, and in a few weeks 
she will be of age. - ” 

“ All very favorable for her,” said De Burgh, in his care- 
less, commanding way. His tones were deep and harsh, and 
though unmistakably one of the “ upper ten,” there was a 
degree of roughness in his style which, however, did not pre- 
vent him from being rather a favorite with women, who always 
seemed to find his attentions peculiarly flattering. 

“ Come,” cried Ormonde, 46 let us push on. 1 am getting 
chilled to the bone, and we are late enough already.” 

He touched his horse with the spur, and both riders urged 
their steeds to a trot. Turning a bend of the road, they came 
suddenly upon a young lady accompanied by two little boys, 
in smart velvet suits. They were walking in the direction of 
Castleford — walking so smartly that the smaller of the two 
boys went at a trot. ‘ 4 Halloo!” cried Colonel Ormonde, 
pulling up for an instant. “What are you doing here? 1 
hope the baby has not been out so late?” 

“ Baby has gone to drive with mother,” chorused the boys, 
eagerly, as if a little awed. 

“All right. Time you were home, too,” and he spurred 
after De Burgh. 

“ Mrs. Ormonde's boys?” asked the latter. 

“ Yes; have you never seen them?” 

“ I knew they existed., but I can not say I ever beheld them 
before.” 

“ Oh, Mrs. Ormonde never bores people with her brats.” 

. “ After they are out of infancy,” returned the other, dryly. 

A remark which helped to “ rile ” Colonel Ormonde, and 
he said little more till they reached their destination, and both 
retired to enjoy the luxury of a bath before dressing for dinner. 

John de Burgh was a distant relation of Ormonde's, but 
having been thrown together a good deal, they seemed nearer 
of kin than they really were. De Burgh was somewhat over- 
bearing, and dominated Colonel Ormonde considerably. He 
was also somewhat lawless by nature, hating restraint and in- 
tent upon his own pleasure. The discipline of military life, 
light as it is to an officer, became intolerable to him when the 
excitement and danger of real warfare were past, and he re- 
signed his commission to follow his own sweet will. 

Ultimately he became renowned as a crack rider, and one 
of the best steeple-chase jockeys on the turf in all competitions 
between gentlemen. 


126 


A CROOKED PATH. 


Mrs. Ormonde considered him quite an important personage, 
heir to an old title, and first or second cousin to a host of 
peers. It took many a day to accustom her to think of her 
husband's connections without a sense of pride and exultation, 
at which Ormonde laughed heartily whenever he perceived it. 
On his side De Burgh thought her a very pretty little toy, 
quite amusing with her small airs and graces and assumption 
of fine-ladyism, and he showed her a good deal of indolent at- 
tention, at which her husband was rather flattered. 

The rector of the parish and one or two officers of Colonel 
Ormonde's old regiment, which happened to be quartered at a 
manufacturing town a few miles distant, made up the party 
at dinner that evening, and afterward they dropped off one by 
one to the billiard-room, till Mrs. Ormonde and De Burgh 
found themselves tete-a-tete. 

“ Do you wear black every night because it suits you down 
to the ground?" he asked, after very deliberately examining 
her from head to foot when he had thrown down a newspaper 
he had been scanning. 

“No; lam in mourning. Don't you see I have only black 
lace and jet, and a little crape?" 

“Ah! and that constitutes mourning, eh? Well, there is 
very little mourning in your laughing eyes. Who is dead?" 

“ My mother-in-law." 

“ Your mother-in-law? I didn't know Ormonde — " 

“ I mean Mrs. Liddell; and I am quite sorry for her; she 
was wonderfully fond of me, and very kind. " 

“ Why, what an angel you must be to fascinate a telle mere. 
Then the dear departed must be the mother of that Miss Lid- 
dell whom Ormonde was recommending to me this afternoon?" 

“ Who — my husband? How silly! She would not suit you 
a bit." 

“ Well, Ormonde thought her fortune might." 

“Oh! her fortune! that is another thing. But she will not 
be so very rich if she fulfills her promise to settle part of her 
fortune on my boys. You see, if their poor father had lived, 
he would have shared their uncle's money with his sister. 
Now it is too hideously unjust that my poor dear boys should 
have nothing, and Katherine is very properly going to make 
it up to them. " 

“A young woman with a very high sense of justice. A 
good deal under the influence of her charming sister-in-law, I 
presume?" 

“ Well, rather," returned Mrs. Ormonde, with an air of 
superiority. “Katherine is a mere enthusiastic school-girl. 




A CROOIvED PATH. 12 ? 

easily imposed upon. Both Colonel Ormonde and myself feel 
bound to look after her. ” 

44 Will she let you?” asked De Burgh, dryly. 

44 Of course she will. She knows nothing of the world, or 
at least very little, for she did not go much into society while 
they were abroad. ” 

44 Has she been abroad?” 

44 Yes; Mrs. Liddell was out of health when Katherine came 
into this money, and they have been away in Italy and Ger- 
many and Paris for quite two years. They were on their way 
home when Mrs. Liddell was taken ill. She died in Paris of 
typhoid fever, just before Christmas.” 

44 Two years in Italy, Germany, and Paris,” repeated De 
Burgh; 44 she can't be quite a novice, then.” 

44 Oh, she thinks she knows a great deal; and she is a nice 
girl, though curious and fanciful. I like her very much in- 
deed, but I do not fancy you would. She is certainly obstinate. 
Instead of coming direct to us, and making her home here, as 
we were quite willing she should, she has gone to a Miss Payne, 
a woman who, I believe, exists by acting chaperon to rich girls 
with no relations. Fancy, she has absolutely agreed to live 
with this Miss Pa} r ne for a year before consulting us, or asking 
our consent — or — or anything!” 

44 Is she not a minor?” 

44 She will be of age in a week or two, and it makes me quite 
nervous to think that other influences may prevent her keep- 
ing her promise to my boys. It is a mercy she did not marry 
some greedy foreigner while she was under age. Fortunately, 
men never seemed to take a fancy to Katherine. ” 

44 They will be pretty sure to take a fancy to her money.” 

44 1 think she lived so quietly people did not suspect her of 
having any. She is awfully cut up about the death of her 
mother, and does not go anywhere. I hope she will come 
down here next week. The only person I am afraid of is a 
horrid, stiff old lawyer who seems to be her right-hand man. 
He went over to Paris when Mrs. Liddell died, and did every- 
thing, instead of sending for Colonel Ormonde! I felt quite 
hurt about it.” 

44 Ha! a shrewd old lawyer is bad to beat,” said De Burgh, 
looking at his lively informant with half-closed eyes and an 
amused expression. 44 1 wouldn't be too sure of your sister if 
I were you. Under such guidance the young lady may alter 
her generous intentions.” 

44 Pray do not say such horrible things, Mr. De Burgh!” 
cried Mrs. Ormonde, growing very grave, even pathetic, and 


128 


A CROOKED PATH. 


looking inclined to cry. “What would become of me — I 
mean us — if she changed her mind? '’Duke would be furious; 
he would never forgive me.” 

“ Pooh! nonsense! a man would forgive a woman like you 
anything. ” 

“ A woman, perhaps, but not his wife,” she returned, 
shaking her head. “ But I won’t think of anything so dread- 
ful. I am quite sure Katie will never break her word; she is 
awfully true . 99 

“That is rather an alarming character. You make me 
quite curious. What is she like — anything like you?” 

“ Not a bit. You know, she is only my sister-in-law. She 
is tall and large, and much more decided ” — looking up in his 
face with a caressing smile. 

“ I understand. Not a delicate little darling, made for 
laughter and kisses, and sugar and spice, and all that’s nice, 
like you . ” This with an insolent, admiring look. “ Not a 
woman to fall in love with, but useful as a wife to keep one’s 
household up to the collar . 99 

“ Really, Mr. De Burgh, you are very shocking! You must 
not say such things to me.” 

“ Mustn’t 1? How shall you prevent me? I am a relative, 
you know. You can’t treat me as a stranger.” 

“ You are quite too audacious — ” she was beginning, when 
a slim young cornet came back from the billiard-room. 

“The colonel wants you, Mrs. Ormonde,” he said; “and 
you too, De Burgh. We are not enough for pool, and you 
play a capital game, Mrs. Ormonde.” 

“What are the stakes?” asked De Burgh, rising readily 
enough. 

“ Oh, I can’t play well at all,” said Mrs. Ormonde, follow- 
ing him with evident reluctance. “ Certainly not when Colonel 
Ormonde is looking on. ’ ’ 

“ Oh, never mind him. I’ll screen you from his hypercrit- 
ical eyes,” returned De Burgh, as he held the door open for 
her to pass out. 

So it was, after a spell of heavenly tranquillity, as Katherine 
and her mother were on their way to England, intending to 
make a home in or near London, Mrs. Liddell had been struck 
down with fever, and Katherine was left unspeakably deso- 
late. Then she turned to her old friend Mr. Newton, and 
found him of infinite use and comfort. 

A short space of numb inaction followed, during which she 


A CROOKED PATH. 129 

fully realized the loneliness of her position* and from which 
she roused herself to plan her future. 

At the time Mrs. Liddell was first attacked with fever they 
had just renewed their acquaintance with a Miss Payne* whom 
they had met in Pome and at Berlin. She was not unknown 
in society, for she came of a good old county family* and was 
half-sister of the Bertie whose name has already appeared in 
these pages. 

Their father* with an old man’s pride in a handsome only 
son* had left the bulk of his fortune to Bertie* while Hannah* 
who had ministered to his comfort and borne his ill-humor, 
inherited only a paltry couple of hundred a year* with a fairly 
well-furnislied house in Wilton Street* Hyde Park. Her 
brother would have willingly added to this pittance* but she 
sternly refused to accept what did not of right belong to her. 
Bertie went with his regiment to India* whence he returned a 
wiser* a poorer* and a physically weaker man. 

His sister* whose business instincts were much too strong to 
permit her wrapping up such a “ talent ” as a freehold house 
in the napkin of unfruitful occupation* looked round to see 
how she could best turn it to account. Accident threw in her 
way a girl of large fortune with no relations* whose guardians* 
thankful to find a respectable home for her* readily agreed to 
pay Miss Payne handsomely for taking charge of the orphan. 
Her first protegee married well* under her auspices, and from 
henceforth her house was rarely empty. Sometimes she ac- 
cepted a roving commission and traveled with her charge* 
meanwhile letting her house in town* so making a double 
profit. It was on one of these expeditions that she was intro- 
duced to Mrs. and Miss Liddell. There was an air of sincerity 
and common sense about the composed elderly gentlewoman 
which rather attracted the former* and, when they met again 
in Paris* Miss Payne came to Katie in her trouble and proved 
a brave and capable nurse; nor was she unsympathetic* though 
far from effusive. So finding that Miss Payne’s last young 
lady had left her* Katherine* with the approval of Mr. New- 
ton* proposed to become her inmate for a year — an arrange- 
ment entirely in accordance with Miss Payne’s wishes. 

“ I did not know you were acquainted with Miss Liddell,” 
she said one evening when she was sitting with her brother* 
Katherine having retired early* as she often did. “ It is quite 
a surprise to me. ” 

“ I can hardly say I am acquainted with her; I happened to 
be of some slight use to her once* and I met her after by acci« 
dent* when we spoke; that is all.” 


130 


A CEOOKED PATH. 


44 I wonder she did not mention it to me.” 

44 1 imagine she hardly knew my name.” Miss Payne 
uttered an inarticulate sound between a h’m and a groan, by 
which she generally expressed indefinite dissent and disappro- 
bation. Then she rose and walked to the dwarf book-case at 
the end of the room to fetch her tatting. She was tall and 
slight. Following her, you might imagine her young, for her 
figure was good and her step brisk. Meeting her face to face, 
her pale, slightly puckered cheeks, closely compressed lips, 
keen light eyes, and crisp pepper-and-salt hair — Cayenne pep- 
per, for it had once been red — suggested at least twenty or 
twenty-five additional years as compared with the back view. 

Returning to her seat, she began to tat, slowly drawing each 
knot home with a reflective air. 

44 That woman is hunting her up,” she exclaimed, sudden- 
ly, after a few minutes’ silence, during which Bertie looked 
thoughtfully at the fire, his quiet face, with its look of un- 
utterable peace, the strongest possible contrast to his sister’s 
hard, shrewd aspect. 

44 What woman?” he asked, as if recalled from a dream. 

“Mrs. Ormonde. There was a telegram from her this 
afternoon. She has been worrying Miss Liddell to go to them 
ever since she set foot in England; and as that won’t do, she 
is coming up to-morrow to see what personal persuasion will 
do.” 

44 I dare say Mrs. Ormonde is fond of her sister-in-law. She 
is too well off to have any mercenary designs.” 

44 Is that all your experience has taught you?” contemptu- 
ously. 4 6 If there is any truth in handwriting, that Mrs. Or- 
monde is a fool. Her letter after Mrs. LiddelFs death, which 
Katherine showed me because it touched her, was the produc- 
tion of an effusive idiot. I don’t trust sentimentalists; they 
seldom have much honesty or justice. Katherine Liddell is a 
little soft, too, but she is by no means so asinine as the others 
I have had. Wait, however; wait till some man takes her 
fancy; that is the divining-rod to show where the springs of 
folly lie.” 

44 Miss Liddell is a good deal changed,” returned Bertie, 
slowly. 44 She looks considerably older. No, that is not the 
right expression; I mean she seems more mature than when 1 
saw her before. What she says is said deliberately; what she 
does is with the full consciousness of what she is doing; but 
she looks as if she had suffered.” 

44 She has,” said Miss Payne, with an air of conviction. 


A CROOKED PATH. 


131 

44 Her grief for her mother was, is, deep and real. I don’t 
believe in floods of tears — they are a relief.” 

44 Yes; and though she looks so pale and sad, she is not a 
whit less beautiful than she was.” 

44 Beautiful!” repeated Miss Payne. 44 1 rather admire her 
myself, but I don’t think any one could call her beautiful.” 

46 Perhaps not. There is so much expression in her face, 
such feeling in her eyes, that not many really beautiful women 
would stand comparison with her.” 

Miss Payne sniffed, and then she smiled. 44 She is not a 
commonplace young woman, though I fear she is easily im- 
posed upon. I am afraid she may be snapped up by some 
plausible fortune-hunter. ” 

Bertie frowned slightly; 44 1 trust she may be guided to hap- 
piness with some good. God-fearing man,” he said, and then 
he bid his sister good-night somewhat abruptly. 

Meantime, Katherine sat plunged in thought beside the fire 
in her bedroom. She was not given to weeping, but she was 
profoundly sad. To find herself again in London without her 
mother seemed to renew the intense grief which had indeed 
lost but little of its keenness. Never had a mother been more 
terribly missed. They had been such sympathetic friends, 
such close companions; they had had such a hearty respect for 
and appreciation of each other’s qualities, such a pleasant com- 
prehension of each other’s differing tastes, that it would be 
hard to fill the place of the dear lost comrade with whom she 
had hitherto walked hand in hand. It soothed her to think 
of the delightful tranquillity Mrs. Liddell had enjoyed for the 
last two years, of the untroubled sweetness of their intercourse, 
of her mother’s last contented words: 44 1 am quite happy, 
dear. Your future is secure, and you have never given me 
a moment’s pain. We have had such delightful days to- 
gether!” 

How could she have borne to have seen a pained, anxious 
look — such a look as was once familiar to them — in those dear 
eyes, as they closed forever on this mortal scene! Oh, thank 
God for the heavenly security of those last days, whatever the 
price she had paid for them! 

Motherless, she was utterly desolate. It would be long, long 
before she could find any one to fill her mother’s place, if she 
ever did. For the present she was satisfied to stay with Miss 
Payne, but she did not think she could ever love her. The 
idea of residing with Colonel Ormonde and his wife was dis- 
tasteful. The most attractive scheme was to beg her little 
nephews from their mother, and take them to live with her. 


132 


A CROOKED PATH. 


She was almost of age, and felt old enough to set up for her- 
self. As she pondered on these things she felt bitterly that, 
rich or poor, a homeless woman is a wretched creature. 

At last she went to bed, and lay for awhile watching the 
fire-light as it cast flickering shadows, thinking of the tender, 
watchful love which had dropped away out of her life; and 
with the murmured words, “ Dear, dear mother!” on her lips 
she fell asleep. 

The next day broke bright and clear, though cold, and hav- 
ing kept Katherine at home all day, Mrs. Ormonde made her 
appearance in time for afternoon tea. 

“My dear, dearest Katherine!” cried the little woman, 
fluttering in, all fur and feathers, in the richest and most be- 
coming morning toilet, looking prettier and younger than 
ever, “ I am so delighted to see you once more! Why have 
you stayed in town, instead of coming straight to us?” and 
she embraced her tall sister-in-law effusively. 

Katherine returned her embrace. For a moment or two 
she could not command her voice; the sight of the known 
childish face, the sound of the shrill familiar voice, brought a 
flood of sudden sorrow over her heart; but Mrs. Ormonde was 
not the sort of woman to whom she could express it. 

“ And 1 am very glad to see you , Ada! How well you are 
looking — even younger and fairer than you used!” 

“ Yes, I am uncommonly well; and you, dear, you are 
looking pale and ill and older! You will forgive me, but I 
am quite distressed. * You must come down to Castleford at 
once.” 

“Thank you. Where are the boys? I hoped you would 
bring them. ” 

“ Oh, Colonel Ormonde thought they would be too trouble- 
some for me in a hotel, so 1 left them behind. They were 
awfully disappointed, poor dears; but it better you should 
come down and see them. Cecil is going to school after 
Easter, and 1 believe Charlie must go soon.” 

“ I long to see them,” said Katherine, assisting her visitor 
to take off her cloak. 

“ And I long to show you my new little boy,” cried Mrs. 
Ormonde, drawing a chair to the fire, and putting her small, 
daintily shod feet on the fender. “ He is a splendid child, 
amazingly forward for six months.” 

“I am glad you are so happy, Ada; 1 shall be pleased to 
make the acquaintance of my new nephew. I suppose I may 
consider him a sort of nephew?” 


A CROOKED PATH. 


133 


“ My dear, of course ! Colonel Ormonde, as well as my- 
self, is proud to consider you his aunt. Yes, I am very hap- 
py, though Ormonde is rather provoking sometimes; still, he 
is not half bad, and 1 know how to manage him. You are such 
a favorite with my husband, Katie. He admires you so much, 
I sometimes threaten to be jealous — Why, what is the matter, 
dear?” 

Katherine had suddenly covered her face with her handker- 
chief and burst into tears. 

“ Do not mind me, Ada!” she said, when she could speak. 
“ It was just that name; no one has called me Katie except 
my mother and you, and the idea that I should never hear her 
speak again overpowered me for a moment. ” 

Mrs. Ormonde was puzzled. Not knowing what to do in 
face of a great grief, she took out her own pocket-handker- 
chief politely. 

“Of course, dear,” she said; “it is quite natural. 1 was 
awfully cut up when I heard of your sad loss— and mine too, 
for I am sure Mrs. Liddell loved me like her own child; it was 
quite wonderful for a mother-in-law. 1 was afraid to speak to 
you about her, but I am sure she would like you to live with 
us; it is your natural home. And — and she would, I am sure, 
be pleased, if she can know what is going on here below, to see 
that you fulfilled your kind intentions to her poor little grand- 
sons.” These last words with some hesitation. 

Katherine kept silence, and still held her handkerchief to 
her eyes. So Mrs. Ormonde resumed: “A good, religious 
girl like you, Katherine, must feel that it is right to submit 
to the will of — ” 

“ Yes, yes; I know all about that,” interrupted Katherine, 
who was rather irritated than soothed by her sister-in-law 's 
attempt at preaching; and recovering herself, she added: “ I 
will not worry you with my tears. Tell me how the boys get 
on with Colonel Ormonde.” 

“Very well, indeed, especially Cecil. 'Duke is very kind. 
They have a pony, and quite enjoy the country; but now that 
we have a boy of our own, we feel doubly anxious that Cis and 
Charlie should be permanently provided for; so do, dear, come 
back with me, and talk it all over with my husband. He is 
such a good man of business.” 

Katherine smiled faintly; she had not seen the drift of Mrs. 
Ormonde's remarks at first; there was no mistaking them 
now. A slightly mischievous sense of power kept her from 
setting her sister-in-law's mind at rest immediately. 

“ I do not think it necessary to consult with Colonel Or- 


134 


A CROOKED PATH. 


monde, Ada, for I have quite made up my mind what to do. [ 
I think you may trust your boys to me. I must see Mr. Newton 
and arrange many matters, so I do not think I can go to you 
just yet. Then, I do not like to be in the way, and I could : 
not mix in society just yet. Oh, I am not morbid or senti- : 
mental, but some months of seclusion 1 must have. ” 

Mrs. Ormonde played with the tassel of the screen with which 
she sheltered her face from the fire while she thought: 44 What 
can she really mean to do? I wonder if she is engaged to any 1 
one, and waiting for him here? Once she is married, good- 
bye to a settlement. She is awfully deep !” Then she said , 
aloud, coaxingly: 4 4 Oh, we are very quiet, home-staying peo- ) 
pie. We have a few men to stay now and again, but we never 
give big dinners. Tell me the truth, dear, are you not en- 
gaged? It would be but natural. A charming girl like you, j 
with a large fortune, could not escape a multitude of lovers.” j 
44 You are wrong, Ada. 1 am not engaged, and I have no 
lovers. Of course a* prince or two and a German graf did me 
the honor of proposing to annex my property, taking myself 
with it. Any well-dowered girl may expect such oilers in 
continental society; but they did not affect me.” 

fc4 No, no; certainly not! It will be an Englishman. Quite 
right. And ’Duke must find out all about him. You know, 
dear, you would marry ever so much better from my house 
than you possibly could here, with a person who, after all, ; 
merely keeps a pension. ” 

44 If Miss Payne could hear you!” said Katherine. 

44 Oh, I should never say it to her. But, Katherine, now is : 
your time, when you are of age, and before you marry — now 
is the time to settle whatever you intend, to settle on my poor 
little boys. 1 am sure you will excuse me for mentioning it, 
won’t you? Between you and me, I don’t think ’Duke would 
have married if he had not believed you would provide for Cis 
and Charlie. 1 don’t know what would become of us if they 
were thrown on his hands.” 

44 You need not fear,” cried Katherine, quickly. 44 My 
nephews shall never cost Colonel Ormonde a sou. ” 

44 No, I was sure they wouldn’t, dear, you are such a kind, 
generous creature, so unselfish. I do hate selfishness, and 
though the allowance you now give is very handsome—” 

44 1 am to make it a little larger,” put in Katherine, good- 
humoredly, as Mrs. Ormonde paused, not knowing how to 
finish her sentence. 44 Be content, Ada; you shall have due 
notice when I have made ail my plans. I have a good deal 
to do, for I ought to make my will too. ” 


A CKOOKED PATH. 


135 


44 Your will! Oh,, yes, to be sure. I never thought of that. 
But if you marry it will be of no use.” 

“ Until 1 am married it will be of use.” 

44 And when do you intend to come to us?” 

44 Oh, some time next month.” 

44 1 hope so. I want to come up for awhile after Easter, 
and am trying to get the colonel to take a house; that depends 
on you a good deal. If you would join me in taking a house 
for three months he would agree at once.” 

44 But I have just agreed to stay with Miss Payne for a 
year.” 

44 How foolish! how short-sighted!” cried Mrs. Ormonde. 
44 You will be just lost in a second-rate place like this.” 

44 It will suit me perfectly. I only want rest and peace at 
present. I dare say it will not be so always.” 

44 Well, I know there is no use in talking to you. You will 
go your own way. Only, as I am in* town, do come to my 
dress-maker’s. Though you had your mourning in Paris, do 
you know, you look quite dowdy. YouTl not mind my say- 
ing so?” 

44 1 dare say I do. Miss Payne got everything for me.” 

44 Oh, are you going to give yourself into her hands blind- 
fold? I am afraid she is a designing woman. You really 
must get some stylish dresses. You must do yourself justice.” 

44 1 have as many 4 as 1 want, and there is no need of wasting 
money, even if you have a good deal. How many poor souls 
need food and clothes?” 

44 Oh. Katherine, if you begin to talk in that way, you will 
be robbed and plundered to no end.” 

44 1 hope not. Here is tea, and Miss Payne. I will come 
and see you to-morrow early, and bring some little presents 
for the boys.” 


CHAPTER XII. 

44 I WAS A STRANGER AND YE TOOK ME IN.” 

Mrs. Ormonde lingered as long as she could. Bond Street 
was paradise to her. Regent Street an Elysian Field. While 
she stayed she gave her sister-in-law little peace, and until she 
had departed Katherine did not attempt to go into business 
matters with Mr. Newton. She was half amused, half disgust- 
ed at Mrs. Ormonde’s perpetual reminders, hints, and in- 
nuendoes touching the settlement on her boys. Ada was the 
same as ever, yet Katherine liked her for the sake of the 
memories she evoked and shared. 


136 


A CROOKED PATH. 


It was quite a relief when she left town, and Katherine felt 
once more her own mistress. Her heart yearned for her little 
nephews, but she felt it was wiser to wait and see them at 
home rather than send for them at present. She greatly 
feared that the new baby, the son of a living, prosperous 
father, was pushing the sons of her first husband — who had ! 
taken his unlucky self out of the world, where he had been 
anything but a success — from their place in her affections. 

Meantime she held frequent consultations with Mr. Newton, | 
who was very devoted to her service, and anxious to do his best 
for her. He remonstrated earnestly with her on her overgen- \\ 
erosity to her nephews. “ Provide for them if you will, my | 
dear young lady, but believe me, you are by no means called | 
upon to divide your property with them. Do not make them \ 
too independent of you; hold something in your hand. Be- 
sides, you do not know what considerations may arise to make ( 
you regret too great liberality.” 

“ I have very little use for money now,” said Katherine, j 
sadly. 

“ You have always been remarkably moderate in your ex- , 
penditure,” returned the lawyer, who had the entire manage- 
ment of her affairs. “ But now you will probably like to 
establish yourself in London, say, for head-quarters. ” 

“ Not for the present. I shall stay where I am until some j 
plan of life suggests itself.” 

6 4 Perhaps you are right, and certainly you are a very pru- j 
dent young lady.” 

This conversation took place in Mr. Newton^s office, and I 
after some further discussion Katherine was persuaded to set- j 
tie a third instead of the half of her property on her nephews, ] 
out of which a jointure was to be paid to Mrs. Ormonde. 

“ I wish 1 could have the boys with me,” said Katherine, J 
as she rose to leave Mr. Newton. 

“ My dear Miss Liddell, take care how you saddle yourself j 
with the difficult task of standing in loco parentis ; leave the 1 
very serious responsibilities of bringing up boys to the mother ) 
whose they are. At your age, and with the almost certainty : 
of forming new ties, such a step would be very imprudent.” Jj 

“ At all events I shall see how they all get on at Castleford 
before I commit myself to anything. You will lose no time, 
dear Mr. Newton, in getting this deed ready for my signature. * 
I do not want to say anything about it till it is ‘ signed, sealed, 
and delivered/ ” 

“ It shall be put in hand at once. When shall you be going 
out of town?” 


A CROOKED PATH. 


137 


“ Not for ten days or a fortnight.” 

The sooner the better. I do not like to see you look so 
pale and sad. Excuse me if 1 presume in saying so. Well, 1 
don't think your uncle ever did a wiser act than in destroying 
that will of his before he made another. The extraordinary 
instinct he had about money must have warned him that his 
precious fortune would be best bestowed on so prudent yet so 
generous a young lady as yourself.” 

“ Don't praise me, Mr. Newton,” said Katherine, sharply. 
“ Could you see me as I see myself, you would know how lit- 
tle I deserved it.” 

“ I am sure 1 should know nothing of the kind,” returned 
the old lawyer, smiling. Katherine was a prime favorite with 
him — quite his ideal of a charming and admirable woman. 
All he hoped was that when the sharp edge of her grief had 
worn off she would mix in society and marry some highly 
placed man worthy of her, a Q. C., if one young enough could 
be found, who was on the direct road to the woolsack. 

The evening of this day Bertie Payne came in, as he often 
did after dinner. Katherine was always pleased to see him. 
♦He brought a. breath of genial life into the rather glacial 
atmosphere of Miss Payne's drawing-room. Yet there was 
something soothing to Katherine in the orderly quiet of the 
house, in the conviction, springing from she knew not what, 
that Miss Payne linked her heartily in her steady, undemon- 
strative fashion. She never interfered with Katherine in any 
way; she was ready to go with her when asked, or to let her 
young guest go on her own business alone and unquestioned, 
while she saw to her comfort, and proved much more compan- 
ionable than Katherine expected. 

On this particular evening which marked a new mental 
epoch for Katherine Liddell, the two companions were sitting 
by the fire in Miss Payne's comfortable though rather old-fash- 
ioned drawing-room, the curtains drawn, the hearth aglow. 
Miss Payne engaged on a large piece of patch- work which she 
had been employed upon for years, while Katherine read aloud 
to her. This was a favorite mode of passing the evening; it 
saved the trouble of inventing conversation — for Miss Payne 
was not loquacious — and it was more sympathetic than read- 
ing to one's self. Miss Payne, it need scarcely be said, had no 
patience with novels; biography and travels were her favorite 
studies; nor did she disdain history, though given to be skep- 
tical concerning accounts of what had happened long ago. She 
had never been so happy and comfortable with any of her 
protegees as with Katherine, though, as she observed to her 


138 


A CROOKED PATH. 


brother, she did not expect it to last. 46 Stay till she is a lit- 
tle known, and the mothers of marriageable sons get about 
her; then it will be the old thing over again — dress, drive, 
dance, hurry-s3urry from morning till night. However, I *11 
make the most of the present.” 

Miss Payne and 44 her favored guest ” were cozily settled 
for the evening when Bertie entered. 

44 May I present myself in a frock-coat?” he asked, as he 
shook hands with Katherine. 44 1 have had rather a busy day, 1 
and found myself in your neighborhood just now, so could not 
resist looking in. ” 

44 At your usual work, I suppose,” said Miss Payne, severe- * 
ly. 44 Pray, have you had anything to eat?” 

44 Yes, 1 assure you. I dined quite luxuriously at Bethnal 
Green about an hour and a half ago.” 

44 Ha! at a coffee stall, 1 suppose; a cup of coffee and a 
ha'p’orth of bread. I must insist on your having some proper 
food.” Miss Payne put forth her hand toward the bell as she 
spoke. 

44 Do not give yourself the trouble; I really do not want 
anything, nor will 1 take anything beyond a cup of tea.”* j 
Bertie drew a chair beside Katherine, asked what she was read- 
ing, and talked a little about the news of the day. Then he 
fell into silence, his eyes fixed on the fire, a very grave expres- 
sion stilling his face. 

44 What are you thinking of?” asked his sister. 44 What 
misery have you been steeping yourself in to-day?” 

44 Misery indeed,” he echoed. Then, meeting Katherine's 
eyes fixed upon him, he smiled. 44 Of course 1 see misery 
everyday,” he continued, 44 but I don't like to trouble you 
with too much of it. To-day I met with an unusually hard 
case, and I am going to ask you for some help toward right- 
ing it.” 

44 Tell me what you want,” said Katherine. 

44 Are you sure the story is genuine?” asked Miss Payne. 

44 1 am quite sure. I went into Bow Street Police Court to- 
day, intending to speak to the sitting magistrate about some 
children respecting whom he had asked for information, when 
I was attracted by the face of a woman who was being exam- 
ined; she was poorly clad, but evidently respectable — like a 
better class of needle-woman. I never saw a face express such 
despair. It seemed she had been caught in the act of stealing 
two loaves from the shop of a baker. The poor creature did 
not deny it. Her story was that she had been for some years 
a widow; that she had supported herself and two children, by 


A CROOKED PATH. 


139 


needle-work and machine-work. Illness had impoverished her 
and diminished her connection, other workers having been 
taken on in her absence. In short she had been caught in that 
terrible maelstrom of misfortune from which no one can escape 
without a helping hand. Her sewing-machine was seized for 
rent; one article after another of furniture and clothes went 
for food; at last nothing was left. She roamed the city, re- 
duced to beg at last, and striving to make up her mind to go 
i to the work-house, the cry of the hungry children she had left 
in her ears. At several bakers* shops she had petitioned for 
food and had been refused. At last, entering one while the 
i shop-girks back was turned, she snatched a couple of small 
loaves and rushed out into the arms of a policeman, who had 
seen the theft through the window.** 

“ And would the magistrate punish her for this?** asked 
Katherine, eagerly. 

“ He must. Theft is theft, whatever the circumstances 
that seem to extenuate it. Nothing, no need, gives a right to 
take what does not belong to you. But, for all that, I am cer- 
tain the poor creature has been honest hitherto, and deserves 
help. She is committed to prison for stealing, and I promised 
her I would look to her children; so I have been to see them, 
and took them to the ChildreiFs Refuge that you were kind 
enough to subscribe to, Miss Liddell. To-morrow we must do 
what we can for the mother. I imagine it is worse than death 
' to her to be put in prison. ** 

“ I do not wonder at it,** ejaculated Miss Payne. “ And in 
spite of what you say, Bertie, I should not like to give any 
materials to be made up by a woman who deliberately stole in 
broad daylight.** 

“ I do not see that the light made any difference,** returned 
Bertie; and they plunged into a warm discussion. Katherine 
soon lost the sense of what they were saying. Her heart was 
throbbing as if a sudden stunning blow had been dealt her, 
and the words, “ Theft is theft, whatever the circumstances 
that seem to extenuate it, ** beat as if with a sledge-hammer 
on her brain. 

If for a theft, value perhaps sixpence, this poor woman, 
who had been driven to it by the direst necessity, was exposed 
to trial, to the gaze of careless lookers-on, to loss of character, 
to the exposure of her sore want, to the degradation of im- 
prisonment, what should be awarded to her, Katherine Lid- 
dell, an educated gentlewoman, for stealing a large fortune 
from its rightful owner, and that, too, under no pressure of 
immediate distress? True, she firmly believed that had her 


140 


A CROOKED PATH. 


uncle not been struck down by death he would have left her a 
large portion of it; that she had a better right to it than a 
stranger. Still that did not alter the fact that she was a thief. 
If every one thus dared to infringe the rights of others, what 
law, what security would remain? 

These ideas had never quite left her since the day she had 
written “ Manuscript to be destroyed ” on the fatal little par- 
cel, which had been ever with her during her various journey- 
ings since. More than once she had made up her mind to de- 
stroy it, but some influence — some terror of destroying this 
expression of what her uncle once wished — had staved her 
hand ; her courage stopped there. Perhaps a faint foreshadow- 
ing of some future act of restitution caused this reluctance, 
unknown to herself, but certainly at present no such possibility 
dawned upon her. She felt that she held her property chiefly 
in trust for others, especially her nephews. Often she had 
forgotten her secret during her mother’s life-time, but the 
consciousness of it always returned with a sense of being out of 
moral harmony, which made her somewhat fitful in her con- 
duct, particularly as regarded her expenditure, being some- 
times tempted to costly purchases, and anon shrinking from 
outlay as though not entitled to spend the money which was 
nominally hers. Nathan’s parable did not strike more humili- 
ating conviction to Israel’s erring king than Bertie Payne’s 
44 ower true tale.” At length she mastered these painful 
thoughts, and sought relief from them in speech. 

“ What do you think of doing for this poor woman?” she 
asked, taking a screen to shelter her face from the fire and ob- 
servation. 

44 1 have not settled details in my own mind yet,” he said; 
“ but as soon as she is released I must get her into a new 
neighborhood and redeem her sewing-machine. Then, if we 
can get her work and help her till she begins to earn a little, 
she may get on.” 

44 Pray let me help in this,” said Katherine, earnestly. 44 1 
live quite a selfish life, and I should be thankful if you will let 
me furnish what money you require.” 

44 That I shall with great thankfulness. But, Miss Liddell, 
if you are anxious to find interesting' work, why not come and 
see our Children’s Iiefuge and the schools connected with it? 
Then there is an association for advancing small sums to work- 
men in time of sickness, or to redeem their tools, which is 
affiliated to a ladies’ visiting club, the members of which make 
themselves acquainted personally with the men and their 
families. ” 


A CROOKED PATH. 


141 


44 I shall be most delighted to go with you to both, but 1 do 
not think I could do any good myself. I am so reluctant to 
preach to poor people, who have so much more experience, so 
much more real knowledge of life, than -I have, merely because 
they are poor.” 

44 I do not want you to do so, but I think personal contact 
with the people you relieve is good both for those benefited and 
their benefactor. ” 

44 I suppose it is; and those poor old people who can not 
read or are blind, I am quite willing to read to them if they 
like it. ” 

44 I can find plenty for you to do, Miss Liddell,” Bertie was 
beginning, when his sister broke in with: 

44 This is quite too bad, Bertie. You know I will not have 
you dragging my young friends to catch all sorts of disorders 
in the slums. You must be content with Miss LiddelTs 
money/'' 1 

44 Miss Payne, I really do wish to see something of the work 
on which your brother is engaged, and — forgive me if I seem 
obstinate — I am resolved to help him if I can.” 

The result of the conversation was that the greater portion 
of the contents of Miss Liddell’s purse was transferred to 
Bertie’s, and he left them in high spirits, having arranged to 
call for Katherine the next day in order to escort her to the 
Children’s Refuge and some other institutions in which he took 
an interest. 

From this time for several weeks Katherine was greatly oc- 
cupied in the benevolent undertakings of her new friend. The 
endless need, the degradations of extreme poverty, the hope- 
less condition of such masses of her fellow-creatures, depressed 
her beyond description. She would gladly have given to her 
uttermost farthing, but it would be a mere drop in the ocean 
of misery around. 

44 Even if we could supply their every want, and give each 
family a decent home,” she said to Bertie one evening as she 
walked back with him, 64 they would not know how to keep it 
or to enjoy it. If the men, and the women too, have not the 
tremendous necessity to labor that they may live, they relax 
and become mere brutes. We must, above all things, educate 
them. ” 

44 Yes, education is certainly necessary; but the most igno- 
rant being who has laid hold on the Rock of Ages, who has re- 
ceived the spirit of adoption whereby he can cry, 4 Abba, 
Father!’ has a means of elevation and refinement beyond all 


142 


A CKOOKED PATH. 


that books and art can teach/* cried Bertie, with more 
warmth than he usually allowed himself to show. 

“You believe that? I can not say I do. We need other 
means of moral and intellectual life besides spiritualism. At 
least I have tried to be religious, but 1 always get weary.** 

“ That is only because you have not found the straight and 
true road,** said Bertie, earnestly. “ Pray, my dear Miss Lid- 
dell — pray, and light will be given you. ** 

“ Thank you — you are very good,** murmured Katherine. 
“ At all events, though we can do but little, it is a comfort to 
help some of these poor creatures, especially the children and 
old people.** 

“ It is,** he returned. “ And if it be consolatory to minis- 
ter to their physical wants, how much more to feed their im- 
mortal souls!** 

Katherine was silent for a few minutes, and then said: “ It 
is impossible they can think much about their souls when they 
suffer so keenly in their bodies. Poverty and privation, which 
destroy self-respect, can not allow of spiritual aspiration. Is it 
to be always like this— one class steeped in luxury, the other 
groveling in cruel want?** 

“ Our Lord says, 6 Ye have the poor always with you,* ** 
returned Bertie. “ Nor can we hope to see the curse of orig- 
inal sin lifted from life here below until the great manifesta- 
tion; in short, till Shiloh come.** 

“ Do you think so? 1 do not like to think that Satan is too 
strong for God,** said Katherine, thoughtfully. 

Bertie replied by exhorting her earnestly not to trust to 
mere human reason, to accept the infallible word of God, 
“ and so find safety and rest.** Katherine did not reply. 

“ I think you could help me in a difficult case,** said Bertie, 
a few days after this conversation. 

“Indeed!** said Katherine, looking up from the book she 
was reading by the fire after dinner. “ What help can 1 pos- 
sibly give?** 

“ Hear my story, and you will see.** 

“ 1 shall* be most happy if I can help you. Pray go on.** 

“ You know Dodd, the porter and factotum at the Chil- 
drens Eefuge? Well, Dodd has a mother, a very respectable 
old dame, who keeps a very mild sweety shop, and also sells 
newspapers, etc. Mrs. Dodd, besides these sources of wealth, 
lets lodgings, and seems to get on pretty well. Now Dodd 
came to me in some distress, and said, 6 Would you be so good, 
sir, as to see mother? she wants a word with you bad, very 


A CKOOKED PATH. 


143 


bad . 9 I of course said I was very ready to hear what she had 
to say. So I called at the little shop, which I often pass. I 
found the old lady in great trouble about a young woman who 
had been lodging with her for some time. She, Mrs. Dodd, 
did not know that her lodger was absolutely ill, but she scarce- 
ly eats anything, she never went out, she sometimes sat up half 
the night. Hitherto she had paid her rent regularly, but on 
last rent-day she had said she could only pay two weeks more, 
after which she supposed she had better go to the work-house. 
When first she came she used to go out looking for work, but 
that ceased, and she seemed in a half-conscious state. As I was 
a charitable gentleman, would 1 go and speak to her? Well, 
rather reluctantly, 1 did. I went upstairs to a dreary back 
room, and found a decidedly lady-like young woman, neatly 
dressed enough, but ghastly white, with dull eyes. She seemed 
to be dusting some books, but looked too weary to do much. 
She was not surprised or moved in any way at seeing me. 
When 1 apologized for intruding upon her, she murmured that 
I was very good. Then I asked if I could help her in any 
way. She thanked me, but suggested nothing. When 1 
pressed her to express her needs, she said that life was not 
worth working for, but that she supposed they would give her 
something to do in the work-house, and she would do it. As 
for seeking work, she could not, that she was a failure, and 
only cared not to trouble others. I was quite baffled. She 
was so quiet and gentle, and spoke with such refinement, that 
I was deeply interested. I called again this morning, and she 
would hardly answer me. As she is young (not a great deal 
older than yourself), perhaps a lady — a woman — might win 
her confidence. She seems to have been a dress -maker. 
Could you not offer her some employment, and draw her from 
the extraordinary lethargy which seems to dull her faculties? 
No mind can hold out against it; she will die or become in- 
sane.” 

4 4 It is very strange. I should be very glad to help her, but 
I feel afraid to attempt anything. 1 shall be so awkward. 
What can I say to begin with?” 

44 Your offering her work would make an opening. Do try. 
I am sure her case needs a woman’s delicate touch . 99 

44 1 will do my best,” said Katherine. 44 It all sounds ter- 
ribly interesting. Shall I go to-morrow?” 

“Yes, by all means. I am so very much obliged to you. I 
feel you will succeed . 99 

44 Don’t be too sure.” 

The next day, a drizzling damp morning, Katherine, feeling 


144 


A CKOOKED PATH. 


unusually nervous, was quite ready when Bertie called for her. 
The drive to Camden Town seemed very long, but it came to 
an end at last, all the sooner because Bertie stopped the cab 
some little way from the sweety shop. 

44 I have brought a young lady to see your invalid/’ said 
Bertie, introducing Katherine to Mrs. Dodd, a short, broad old 
lady, with a shawl neatly pinned over her shoulders, a snowy 
white cap with black ribbons, and a huge pair of spectacles, 
over which she seemed always trying to look. 

44 I’m sure it’s that kind of you, sir. And I am glad you 
have come. The poor thing has been offering me a nice black 
dress this morning to let her stay on. It’s the last decent 
thing she has. I expect she has been just living on her 
clothes. I’ll go and tell her. May be miss will come after 
me, so as not to give her time to say no?” 

Katherine cast a troubled look at Bertie. 44 Don’t wait for 
me,” she said; 44 your time is always so precious. 1 dare say 
I can get a cab for myself. ” And she followed Mrs. Dodd up 
a steep, narrow, dark stair. 

4 6 Here. is a nice lady come to see you,” said Mrs. Dodd, in 
a soothing tone suited to an infant or a lunatic. 

64 No, no; I don’t want any lady; I would rather not see 
any lady,” cried a voice naturally sweet -toned, but now 
touched with shrill terror. Curiously enough, this token of 
fear gave Katherine courage. Here was some poor soul want- 
ing comfort sorely. 

k4 Do not forbid me to come in,” she said, walking boldly 
into the room, and addressing the inmate with a kind bright 
smile. 44 1 very much want some needle-work done, and I 
shall be glad if you will undertake it.” While she spoke, Mrs. 
Dodd retired and softly closed the door. Katherine found 
herself face to face with a lady-like-looking young woman, 
small and slight — slight even to extreme thinness — fair- 
skinned, with large blue eyes, delicate features, a quantity of 
fair hair carelessly coiled up, and with white cheeks. The 
strange pallor of her trembling lips, the despair in her eyes, 
the shrinking, hunted look of face and figure, almost fright- 
ened her visitor. 44 1 hope you are not vexed with me for 
coming in,” faltered Katherine, deferentially; 44 but they said 
you wanted employment, and 1 should like to give you some. 
You must be ill, you look so pale. Can I not be of some use 
to you?” 

The girl’s pale cheek flushed as, partially recovering her- 
self, she stood up holding the back of her chair, her eyes fixed 
on the floor; she seemed endeavoring to speak, but the words 


A CROOKED PATH. 


145 


did not come. At last, in a low, hesitating voice, “ You are 
too good. I have tried to find work vainly; now I do not 
think I have the force to do any.-” The color faded away 
from the poor sunken cheeks, and the eyes hid themselves 
persistently under the downcast lids. 

“ I am sure you are very weak,” returned Katherine, ten- 
derly, for there was something inexpressibly touching in the 
hopelessness of the strangers aspect. “ But some good food 
and the prospect of employment will set you up. When you 
are a little stronger and know me better you will perhaps tell 
me how Mr. Payne and 1 can best help you. We all want 
each other's help at times; and life must not be thrown away, 
you know. I do not wish to intrude upon you, but you see 
we are nearly of an age, and we ought to understand and help 
each other. It is my turn now; it may be yours by and by.” 

“ Mine!” with unspeakable bitterness. 

“Do sit down,” said Katherine, who felt her tears very 
near her eyes, and I will sit by you for a little while. Why, 
you are unfit to stand, and you are so cold!” She pulled off 
her gloves, and taking one of the poor girPs hands in both her 
own soft, warm ones, chafed it gently. No doubt practically 
charitable people would smile indulgently at Katherine's en- 
thusiastic sympathy; but she was new to such work, and felt 
that she had to deal with no common subject. Whether it 
was the tender tone or the kindly touch, but the hard, desper- 
ate look softened, and big tears began to roll down, and soon 
she was weeping freely, quietly, while she left her hand in 
Katherine's, who held it in silence, feeling how the whole 
slight frame shook with the effort to control herself. 

At length Katherine rose and went down-stairs to take 
counsel with Mrs. Dodd. “ She seems quite unable to re- 
cover herself. Ought she not to have a little wine or some- 
thing?” 

“ Yes, miss; it's just that she wants. She is nigh starved 
to death.” 

“ Have you any wine?” 

“Well, no, miss; but there's a tavern round the corner 
where you can get very good port from the wood. I'll send 
the girl for a pint.” 

“ Pray do, and quickly, and some biscuits or something; 
here is some money. What is her name?” 

“ Trant — Miss Trant,” returned Mrs. Dodd, knowing who 
her interrogator meant. “ Leastways we always called her 
miss, for she is quite the lady.” 

Katherine hurried back, and found Miss Trant lying back 


146 


A CROOKED PATH. 


in her chair greatly exhausted. With instinctive tact Kath- 
erine assumed an air of authority, and insisted on her patient 
eating some biscuits soaked in wine. 

Presently Miss Trant sat up, and, as if with an effort, raised 
her eyes to Katherine's. 44 I am not worth so much trouble, " 
she said. 6 6 You deserve that I should obey you. It is all I 
can do to show gratitude. If, then, you will be content with 
very slow work, I will thankfully do what you wish; but 1 
must have time. " 

44 So you shall/' cried Katherine, delightedly. 44 You shall 
have plenty of time to make me a dress; that will be more 
amusing than plain work. I will bring you the material to- 
morrow, and if you fit me well, you know, it may lead to a 
great business;" and she smiled pleasantly. 

44 What is your name?" asked the patient, feebly. Kath- 
erine told her. 44 You are so good, you make me resigned to 
live. " 

44 Do you care to read?" 

44 I used to love it; but 1 have no books, nor could I attend 
to the sense of a page if 1 had." 

4 4 If you sit here without book or work, 1 do not wonder at 
your being half dead." 

44 Not nearly half dead yet: dying by inches is a terribly 
long process. I am dreadfully strong." 

44 I will not listen to you if you talk like that. Well, I will 
bring you some books — indeed, I will send you some at once if 
you will promise to read and divert your thoughts. To-mor- 
row afternoon 1 will come, you shall take my measure (I like 
to be made to look nice), and you shall begin again." 

44 Begin again! Me! That would be a miracle." 

“Now try and get a little sleep," said Katherine, 44 your 
eyes look- so weary. You want to stop thinking, and only 
sleep can still thought. When you wake you shall find some 
of the new magazines, and you must try and attend to them." 

44 1 will, fo* your sake." 

44 Good-bye, then, till to-morrow;" and having pressed her 
hand kindly, Katherine departed. 

It was quite a triumph for Katherine to report her success 
to Bertie that evening. Miss Payne rather shook her head 
over the whole affair. 

44 1 must say it puts me on edge altogether to hear you two 
rejoicing over this young woman's condescension in accepting 
the work you lay at her feet, while such crowds of starving 
wretches are begging and praying for something to do; and 
here is a mysterious young woman with lady-like manners and 


A CROOKED PATH. 


147 


remarkable eyes, taken up all at once because she won’t eat 
and refuses to speak. It isn’t just. I suspect there is some- 
thing in her past she does not like to tell.” 

“ Your resume of the facts makes Mr. Payne and me seem 
rather foolish/’ said Katherine. “ Yet 1 am convinced she is 
worth helping, and that no common methods will do to restore 
to her any relish for life. She interests me. 1 may be throw- 
ing away my time and money, but I will risk it.” 

“ It is hard to say, of course, whether she is a deserving ob- 
ject or not,” added Bertie, thoughtfully; “and I have been 
taken in more than once. ” 

“ More than once?” echoed his sister in a peculiar tune. 

“ Still, I feel with Miss Liddell that this girl’s — Rachel 
Trant’s — is not a common case,” continued Bertie. 

“Her very name is suggestive of grief, ’’said Katherine, 
“ and she too refuses to be comforted. I am sure she will tell 
me her story later. Her landlady says she never receives or 
sends a letter, and does not seem to have a creature belonging 
to her. Such desolation is appalling. ” 

“And shows there is something radically wrong,” added 
Miss Payne. 

4 “I acknowledge that it has a dubious appearance,” said 
Bertie, and turned the conversation. 

Katherine was completely taken out of herself by the inter- 
est and curiosity excited by her meeting with Rachel Trant. 
She visited her daily, and saw that she was slowly reviving. 
She took a wonderful interest in the dress which Katherine 
had given her to make, and, moreover, succeeded in fitting 
her admirably. She was evidently weak and unequal to exer- 
tion, yet she worked with surprising diligence. Her manner 
was very grave and collected — respectful, yet always ready to 
respond to Katherine’s effort to draw her out. 

The subject on which she spoke most readily was the books 
j Katherine lent her. Her taste was decidedly intelligent and 
rather solid. To the surprise of her young benefactress, she 
j expressed a distaste for novels — stories, as she called them. 
“ I used to care for nothing else,” she said; “but they pain 
me now.” She expressed herself like an educated, even re- 
fined, woman; and though she said very little about gratitude, 
it showed in every glance, in the very tone of her voice, and 
in her ready obedience to whatever wish Katherine expressed. 
The greatest sacrifice was evidently compliance with her new 
friend’s suggestion that she should take exercise and breathe 
fresh air. 

Miss Payne, after critically examining Katherine’s new gar- 


148 


A CROOKED PATH. 


ment, declared it really well made, inquired the cost, and 
finally decided that she would have an every-day dress for her- 
self, and that 44 Miss Trant " should make it up. Then Kath- 
erine presented the elegant young woman who waited on her 
with a gown, promising to pay for the making' if she employed 
her protegee. 

4 4 Miss Trant 99 could not conceal her reluctance to come so 
far from the wilds of Camden Town; but she came, closely 
muffled in a thick gauze veil, doubtless to guard against cold 
in the chill March evening. Katherine was immensely pleased 
to find that both gowns gave satisfaction, though the 46 elegant 
young woman's 99 praise was cautious and qualified 


CHAPTER XIII. 

RECOGNITION*. 

44 After all, life is inexhaustible," said Katherine. 

She was speaking to Rachel Trant, who had laid aside her 
work to speak with the good friend who had come, as she j 
often did, to see how she was going on and to cheer her. 

44 Life is very cruel," she returned. 44 Neither sorrow nor .■ 
repentance can alter its pitiless law." 

44 Still, there are compensations." Katherine did not ex- 
actly think what she was saying; her mind was filled with the ;j 
desire of knowing her interlocutor's story. 

44 Compensations!" echoed Rachel. 44 Not for those who \ 
deserve to suffer, nor, indeed, often for the innocent. I don't 1 
think we often find vice punished and virtue rewarded in his- 1 
tory and lives — true stories, I mean — as we do in novels." 

Katherine did not reply at once; she thought for a moment, | 
and then, looking full into Rachel's eyes, said: 44 1 wonder i 
how you came to be a dress-maker? You have read a great 1 
deal for a girl who must have had her hands full all day. I $ 
am not asking this from idle curiosity, but from real interest." 

44 1 may well believe you. I should like to tell you much; jjj 
but — " She paused and grew very white for a second, her 
lips trembling, and a troubled look coming into her eyes. 44 1 
always loved reading," she resumed; 44 it has been almost my 
only pleasure, though I was apprenticed to a milliner and 
dress-maker when little more than sixteen. Then I went to 
work with another, a very great person in her way, and I liked 
the work. Still I used to think I was a sort of lady; my poor 
mother certainly was." 

44 1 am sure of it!" cried Katherine, impulsively. 44 1 quite 
feel that you are. " 


A CROOKED PATH. 


149 


“ Thank you /’ said Rachel, in a very low voice, the color 
rising to her pale cheek. 44 My mother was so sweet and 
pretty,” she continued, “ but so sad! I was an orphan at ten 
years old, and then a very stiff, severe-looking woman, the sis- 
ter of my father, had charge of me. I was sent to a school, a 
kind of institution, not exactly a charity school,, for I know 
something was paid for me. It was a very cold sort of place, 
but I was not unhappy there. I had playfellows — some kind, 
some spiteful. One of the governesses was very good to me, 
and used to give me books to read. Had she remained, things 
might have been very different; but she left long before I did. 
The rare holidays when I was permitted to visit my father’s 
sister were terrible days to me. She could not bear to see me. 

I felt it. She seemed to think my very existence was an 
offense. I was ashamed of living in her presence. Of my fa- 
ther I have a very faint recollection. He died abroad, and 1 
remember being on board ship for a long time with my moth- 
er. When 1 was sixteen my father’s sister sent for me, and . 
told me that the money my mother left was nearly exhausted,, 
and what remained ought to provide me with some trade or 
calling by which I could earn my own bread; that she did not 
think I was clever enough to be a governess, so she advised me 
to apprentice myself to a dress-maker. I had seen enough of 
teaching in the school, so I took her advice. At the same time’ 
she gave me some papers my mother had left for me. They; 
fully explained why my existence was an offense — why 1 be- 
longed to nobody. It was a bitter hour when I read my dear 
mother’s miserable story. I felt old from that day. Well, I 
thanked my father’s sister — mind you, she was not my aunt — 
for what she had done, and promised she should never more 
be troubled with me. I have kept my word. ” 

Katherine, infinitely touched by the picture of sorrow and 
loneliness this brief story conjured up, took and pressed the 
thin quivering hand that played nervously with a thimble. 
Rachel glanced at her quickly, compressed her lips for an in- 
stant, and went on: 

44 1 will try and tell you all. You ought to know. As far 
as work went, I did very well. 1 loved to handle and drape 
beautiful stuffs — I enjoy color — and it pleased me to fit the 
pretty girls and fine ladies who came to our show-rooms. It 
was even a satisfaction to make the plain ones look better. I 
should have made friends more easily with my companions 
but for the knowledge of what I was. Even this I might have 
got over; I am not naturally morbid; but I could, not share 
their chatter and jests, or care for their love affairs. They 


150 


A CROOKED PATH. 


were not bad, poor things! but simply ordinary girls of a class 
to which it would have been perhaps better for me to belong. 
With my employers I did fairly well. They were sometimes 
just, sometimes very unjust; but when I was out of my time, 
and receiving a salary, I found I was a valued employe. 
Then it came into my mind that I should like to found a busi- 
ness — a great business. It seemed rather a c vaulting am- 
bition ’ for so humble a waif as myself. But I began to save 
even shillings and sixpences. I tried to kill my heart with 
these duller, lower aims, it ached so always for what it could 
not find. I began to think I was growing so useful to ma- 
dame that she might make me a partner; for even in millnery 
mental training is of use.-” She stopped, and clasping her 
hands, she rested them on her knee for a few moments of 
silence, while her brow contracted as if with pam. “It is 
dreadfully hard to go on!” she exclaimed at length, and her 
voice sounded as if her mouth were parched. 

“ Then do not mind now; some other time,” said Kath- 
erine, softly. 

“ No/* cried Rachel, with almost fierce energy; “I must 
finish. I can not leave you ignorant of my true story.” She 
paused again, and then went on quickly, in a low tone: “ 1 
don’t think I was exactly popular; certainly not with the men 
employed in the same house. I was thought cold and hard, 
and to me they were all utterly uninteresting. One or two of 
the girls I liked, and they were fond of me.” Another pause. 
Then she pushed on again: “One evening I went out with 
another girl and her brother; at least, she said he was her 
brother, to see the illuminations for the queen’s birthday. In 
Pall Mall we got into a crowd caused by a quarrel between 
two drunken men. I was separated from my companions, 
and one of the crowd, also tipsy, reeled against me. I should 
have been knocked down but for a gentleman who caught me; 
he had just come down the steps from one of the clubs. 1 
thanked him. He kindly helped me to find my companions. 
He came on with us almost to the door of Madame Celine’s 
house. He talked frankly and jfieasantly. Two days after I 
was going to the City on madame’s business. He met me. He 
said he had watched for me. There! I can not go into de- 
tails. We met repeatedly. For the first time in my life I was 
sought, and, as I believed, warmly loved. I knew the un- 
speakable gulf that opened for me, but I loved him. At last 
there was light and color in my poverty-stricken existence.” 
She stopped, and a glow came into her sad eyes. “ I was be- 
wildered, distracted, between the passion of my heart and the 


A CROOKED PATH. 


151 


resistance of my reason. I ceased to be the efficient assistant 
I had been. 1 was rebuked, and looked upon coldly. Six 
months after I had met him first, 1 gave madame warning. I 
said I was going into the country. So I was, but not alone. 
No one asked me any questions; no one had a right. I be- 
longed to no one, was responsible to no one, could wound no 
one. 1 was quite alone, and, oh, so hungry for a little love 
and joy!” She paused, and then resumed rapidly: “ I was 
that man's un wedded wife for nearly two years. ” She rested 
her arm on the table, and hid her face with her hand. 

Katherine listened with unspeakable emotion. The eloquent 
blood flushed cheek and throat with a keen sense of shame. 
She had read and heard of such painful stories, but to be face 
to face with a creature who had crossed the Rubicon, over- 
passed the great gulf which separates the sheep from the goats, 
was something so unexpected, so terrible, that she could not 
restrain a passionate burst of tears. “ Ah," she murmured 
at last, “ you were cruelly deceived, no doubt. You are too 
hard upon yourself. You — 99 

“ No, Miss Liddell; I am trying to tell you the whole truth. 
The man I loved never deceived me, never held out any hope 
that we could marry. He was not rich; there were impedi- 
ments — what, I never knew. But I thought such love as he 
professed, and at the time felt for me, would last; and so 
long as he was mine, I wanted nothing more. Have you 
patience to hear more, or have I fallen too low to retain your 
interest?” 

“ Ah, no! tell me everything.” 

“ I was very happy — oh, intensely happy for awhile. Then 
a tiny cloud of indifference, thin and shifting like morning 
mist, rose between us. It darkened and lowered. He was a 
hasty, masterful man, but he was never rough to me. Gradu- 
ally*^ came to see that time had changed me from a joy to a 
burden. How was it I lived? How was it I shut my eyes and 
hoped? At last he told me he was obliged to go abroad, but 
that he could not take me with him; and then proposed to 
establish me in some such undertaking as my late employer's. 
When he said that I knew all was over; that nothing I could 
do or say would avail; that I had been but a toy; that he could 
not conceive what my nature was,*nor the agony of shame, the 
torture of rejected love, he was inflicting. I contrived to keep 
silent and composed. I knew I had no right to complain; I 
had risked all and lost. 1 managed to say we might arrange 
things later, and he praised me for being a sensible, capital 
girl. I had seen this coming, or I don't suppose I could have 


152 


A CROOKED PATH. 


so controlled myself. But 1 could not accept his terms. 1 
had a little money and some jewels; 1 thought I might take 
these. So 1 wrote a few lines, saying that I needed nothing, 
that he should hear of me no more, and I went away out into 
the dark. If I could only have died then! 1 was too great a 
coward to put an end to my life. Why do I try to speak of 
what can not be put into words? Despair is a grim thing, 
and all life had turned to dust and ashes for me. I could not 
even love him, though I pined for the creature I had loved, 
who once understood me, but from whose heart and mind 1 
had vanished when time dulled his first impression, and to 
whom I became even as other women were. But as I could 
not die, I was obliged to work, and there was but one way. I 
dreaded to be found starving, and unable to give an account of 
myself, so I applied to one of those large general shops where 
they neither give nor expect references. There 1 stayed for 
some months, so silent, so steeled against everything, that no 
one cared to speak to me. I dare not even think of that time. 
I do not understand how I managed to do anything. At last 
1 grew dazed, made blunders, and was dismissed. I wandered 
here. 1 failed to find employment, and felt 1 could do no 
more. Still death would not come. I think my mind was 
giving way when you came. Now am I worth helping, now 
that you know all?” 

64 Yes. I will do my best for you. Suffering such as yours 
must be expiation enough,” cried Katherine, her eyes still 
wet. 44 Put the past behind you, and hope for the better 
days which will come, if you strive for them. But, oh! tell 
me, did he never try to find you?” 

64 Yes. 1 saw advertisements in the paper which were meant 
for me; but after awhile they ceased, and no doubt I was for- 
gotten. I reaped what I had sown. Few men, I imagine, 
can understand that there are hearts as true, as strong as 
tenacious, among women such as I am as among the irre- 
proachable, the really good. 1 have no real right to complain; 
only it is so hard to live on without hope or — ” She stopped 
abruptly. 

44 Hope will come,” said* Katherine, gently; 44 and time will 
restore your self-respect. I should be so glad to see you build 
up a new and better life on the ruins of the past! I am sure 
there is independence and repose before you, if you will but 
fold down this terrible page of your life and never open it 
again. ” 

44 And can you endure to touch me — to be to me as you 
have been?” asked Rachel, her voice broken and trembling. 


A CROOKED PATH. 


153 


Katheriue's answer was to stretch out her hand and take 
that of her protegee, which she held tenderly. “ Let us never 
speak of this again/' she said. “ Bury your dead out of 
sight. All you have told me is sacred; none shall ever know 
anything from me. Let us begin anew. I am certain you are 
good and true; and how can one who has never known temp- 
tation judge you?" 

Rachel bent her head to kiss the fair, firm hand which held 
hers; then she wept silently, quietly, and said softly, in an 
altered voice: “ I will do whatever you bid me; and while you 
are so wonderfully good to me I will not despair. " 

There was an expressive silence of a few moments. Then 
Katherine began to draw on her gloves, and trying to steady 
her voice and speak in her ordinary tone, said: 

“ Mr. Payne is going to make you known to a lady who may 
be of great use to you in obtaining customers. I have not met 
her myself, but should you receive a note from Mrs. Needham, 
pray go to her at once. There is no reason why you should 
not make a great business yet. I should be quite proud of it. 
Now I must leave you. Promise me to resist unhappy 
thoughts. Try to regain strength both mental and physical. 
Should you see Mrs. Needham before I come again, pray ask 
quite two thirds more for making a dress than 1 paid, for both 
your work and your fit are excellent." 

With these practical words Katherine rose to depart. Rachel 
followed her to the door, and timidly took her hand. “ Do 
you understand," she said, “ all you have done for me? You 
have given me back my human heart, instead of the iron vise 
that was pressing my soul to death. I will live to be worthy 
of you, of your infinite pity." 

Katherine had hardly recovered composure when she reached 
home. The sad and shameful story to which she had listened 
had not arrested the flow of her sympathy to Rachel. There 
was something striking in the strength that enabled her to tell 
such a tale with stern justice toward herself, without any 
whining self-exculpation. What a long agony she must have 
endured! Katherine's tears were ready to flow afresh at the 
picture her warm imagination conjured up. Weak and guilty 
as Rachel was to yield to such a temptation, what was her 
wrong-doing to that of the man who, knowing what would be 
the end thereof, tempted her? 

Castleford was an ordinary comfortable country house, 
standing in not very extensive grounds. The scenery immedi- 
ately around it was flat and uninteresting, but a few miles to 


154 


A CROOKED PATH. 


the south it became undulating, and broken with pretty 
wooded hollows, but north of it was a rich level district, and 
as a hunting country second only to Leicestershire. 

Colonel Ormonde was a keen sportsman, and when he had 
reached his present grade had gladly taken up his abode in 
the old place, which had been let at a high rent during his 
term of military service. Castleford was an old place, though 
the house was comparatively new. It had been bought by Or- 
monde’s grandfather, a rich manufacturer, who had built the 
house and made many improvements, and his representative 
of the third generation was considered quite one of the coun- 
try gentry. 

Colonel Ormonde was fairly popular. He was not obtrusive- 
ly hard about money matters, but he never neglected his own 
interests. Then he appreciated a good glass of wine, and 
above all he rode straight. Mrs. Ormonde was adored by the 
men and liked by the women of Clay shire society. Colonel Or- 
monde being considered a lucky man to have picked up a 
charming woman whose children were provided for. 

That fortunate individual was sitting at breakfast tete-a-tete 
with his wife one dull foggy morning about a month after 
Katherine Liddell had returned to England. “ Another cup, 
please,” he said, handing his in. Mrs. Ormonde was deep in 
her letters. “ What an infernal nuisance it is!” he continued, 
looking out of the window nearest him. “ The off days are 
always soft and the ‘ meet ’ days hard and frosty. The scent 
would be breast-high to-day.” Mrs. Ormonde made no reply. 
u Your correspondence seems uncommonly interesting!” he 
exclaimed, surprised at her silence. 

“It is indeed,” she cried, looking up with a joyful and ex- 
ultant expression of countenance. “ Katherine writes that she 
has signd a deed settling twenty thousand on Cis and Charlie, 
the income of wiiich is to be paid to me until they attain the 
age of twenty- one for their maintenance, education, and so 
forth; after which any sum necessary for their establishment 
in life can be raised or taken from their capital, the whole 
coming into their own hands at the age of tw’enty-five. Dear 
me! I hope they will make me a handsome allowance when 
they are twenty-five. I really think Katherine might have 
remembered me.” She handed the letter to her husband. 

“ Well, little woman, you have your innings now, and you 
must save a pot of money,” he returned, in high glee. “ What 
a trump that girl is! and, by Jove! wdiat lucky little beggars 
your boys are ! I can tell you I was desperately uneasy for 
fear she might marry some fellow before she fulfilled her 


A CROOKED PATH. 


155 


promise to you. Then you might have whistled for any pro- 
vision for your boys; no man would agree to give up such a 
slice of his wife’s fortune as this. I know I would not. 
Women never have any real sense of the value of money; they 
are either stingy or extravagant. I am deuced glad I haven't 
to pay all your milliner’s bills, my dear. 1 am exceedingly 
glad Katherine has been so generous, but I'll be hanged if it 
is the act of a sensible woman.” 

“ Never mind; there is quite a load off my heart. I think 
I'll have a new habit from Woolmerhausen now.” 

“ Why, I gave you one only two years ago.” 

“Two years ago! Why, that is an age. And you need not 
pay for this one. " 

“I see she says she will pay us a visit if convenient. Of 
course it is convenient. I'll run up to town on Sunday, 
and escort her down next day. The meet is for Tuesday. 
And mind you make things pleasant and comfortable for her, 
Ada. She would be an important addition to our family. A. 
handsome, spirited girl with a good fortune to dispose of would 
be a feather in one’s cap, 1 can tell you.” 

“You’ll find her awfully fallen off, Ormonde, and her 
spirits seem quite gone. Still I shall be very glad to have her 
here. But I do not see why you should go to fetch her. You 
know Lady Alice Mordaunt is coming on Saturday.” 

“ What does that matter? I shall only be away one even- 
ing; and between you and me, though Lady Alice is every- 
thing that is nice and correct, she is enough to put the liveliest 
fellow on earth to sleep in half an hour.” 

“ How strange men are!” exclaimed Mrs. Ormonde, gather- 
ing up her letters and putting them into the pocket of her 
dainty lace and muslin apron. “ Nice, gentle, good women 
never attract you; you only care for bold — " 

“Vivacious, coquettish, attractive little widows, like one I 
once knew,” said the colonel, laughing, as he carefully wiped 
his gray mustache. 

“ You are really too absurd!” she exclaimed, sharply. “ Do 
you mean to say I was ever bold?” 

“No; I only mean to say you are an angel, and a deuced 
lucky angel in every sense into the bargain! Now have you 
any commissions? I am going to Monckton this morning, 
and I fancy the dog-cart will be at the door. Where’s the boy? 
I’ll take him and nurse down to the gate with me if they’ll 
wrap up. The little fellow is so fond of a drive. " 

“ My dear ’Duke! — such a morning as this! Do you think I 
would let the precious child out?” 


156 


A CROOKED PATH. 


44 Nonsense! Do not make a molly-coddle of him. He is 
as strong as a horse. Send for him any way. I haven’t seen 
him this morning. And be sure you write a proper letter to 
Katherine Liddell; you had better let me see it before it 
goes.” 

4 4 Indeed 1 shall do nothing of the kind. Do you think I 
never wrote a letter in my life before I knew you?” 

44 Oh, go your own wav,” retorted the colonel, beating a re- 
treat to save a total rout. 

In due course Katherine received an effusive letter of 
thanks, and a pressing invitation to come down to Castleford 
on the following Monday, and saying that as the hunting sea- 
son was almost over, they would be very quiet till after Easter, 
when Mrs. Ormonde was going to town for a couple of months, 
ending with an assurance that the dear boys were dying to see 
her, and that Colonel Ormonde was going to London for the 
express purpose of escorting her on the journey. 

44 It is certainly not necessary,” observed Katherine, with a 
smile, 44 considering how accustomed I am to take care of my- 
;self. Still it is kindly meant, and I shall accept the offer.” 
This to Miss Payne, as they rose from luncheon, where Kath- 
arine had told her the contents of her letter. 

44 Ahem! No doubt they are anxious to show you every at- 
tention. Would you like to take Turner with you? I could 
spare her very well.” Turner was the maid expressly engaged 
to wait upon Miss Liddell. 

44 Oh, no, thank you, I want so little waiting on. Lady 
Alice Mordaunt will be with Mrs. Ormonde, and will be sure 
to have a maid, so another might be inconvenient.” 

44 My dear Miss Liddell, if you will excuse me for thrusting 
advice upon you, I would say that 4 considering ’ people is the 
very best way to prevent their showing you consideration. ” 

44 Do you really think so? Well, it is really no great mat- 
ter.” 

44 Then you shall not want Turner? Then I shall give her 
a holiday. Her mother or her brother is ill, and she wants to 
go home. Servants’ relations always seem to be ill. It must 
cost them a good deal.” 

44 No doubt. Will you come out with me? I have some 
shopping to do, and your advice is always valuable.” 

44 1 shall be very pleased, and I will say I shall miss you 
when you leave — miss you very much.” 

44 Thank you,” said Katherine, gently. 44 1 believe you 
will, as you say so.” 

Without fully believing Ada’s rather exaggerated expressions 


A CKOOKED PATH. 


157 


of gratitude and affection, Katherine was soothed and pleased 
by them. She was so truthful herself that she was disposed 
to trust others, and the hearty welcome offered her took off 
from the sense of loneliness which had long oppressed her. 
Hers was too healthy a nature to encourage morbid grief. To 
the last day of her life she remembered her mother with ten- 
der, loving regret; but the consolation of knowing that her 
later days had been so happy, that she had passed away so 
peacefully, did much toward healing the wounds which were 
still bleeding. 

On the appointed Monday Colonel Ormonde made his ap- 
pearance in the early afternoon, and found Katherine quite 
ready to start. He was stouter, louder, bluffer than ever. 
When Miss Payne was introduced to him he honored her with 
an almost imperceptible bow and a very perceptible stare. 
Turning at once to Katherine, he exclaimed! 

4 c What ! in complete marching order already? 1 protest 1 
never knew a woman punctual before. But I always saw you 
were a sensible girl. No nonsense about you. Why, my wife 
told me you were looking ill. I don't see it. At any rate 
Castleforcl air will soon bring back your roses.” 

44 1 am feeling and looking better than when I came over, 
and Miss Payne has taken such good care of me,” said Kath- 
erine, who did not like to see the lady of the house so com- 
pletely overlooked. 

44 Ah! that's well. You know you are too precious a piece 
of goods to be tampered with. I believe Bertie Payne is a 
nephew of yours,” he added, addressing Miss Payne — 44 a 
young fellow who was in my regiment three or four years ago, 
the Twenty-first Dragoon Guards!” 

44 He is my brother,” returned Miss Payne, stiffly. 

44 Ah! Hope he is all right. Have scarcely seen him since 
he has gone, not to the dogs, but to the saints, which is much 
the same thing.' Ha! ha! ha!” 

44 Indeed it is not. Colonel Ormonde,” cried Katherine. 
44 If every one was as good as Mr. Payne, the world would be 
a different and a better place.” 

44 Hey! Have you constituted yourself his champion? 
Lucky dog! Come, my dear girl, we must be going. Are 
you well wrapped up? It is deuced cold, and we have nearly 
three miles to drive from the station. ” 

He himself looked like a mountain in a huge fur-lined coat. 

4 4 Good-bye, then, dear Miss Payne. I suppose I shall not 
see you again for a fortnight or three weeks.” 

44 By George! we sha'n't let you off with so short a visit as 


158 


A CROOKED PATH. 


that! Say three years. Come, march; we haven’t too much 
time.” Throwing a brief 44 good-morning ” at the 44 old 
maid ” of uncertain position, the colonel walked heavily down- 
stairs in the wake of his admired young guest. 

Monckton was scarcely four hours from London, but when 
the drive to Castleford was accomplished there was not too 
much time left to dress for dinner. 

Mrs. Ormonde was awaiting Katherine in the hall, which 
was bright with lamps and fire-light; behind her were her two 
boys. 

When Katherine had been duly welcomed, Mrs. Ormonde 
stood aside, and the children hesitated a moment. Cecil was 
so much grown Katherine hardly knew him. He came for- 
ward with his natural assurance, and said, confidently: 44 How 
d’ye do, auntie? You have been a long time coming.” 

Charlie was more like what he had been, and less grown. 
He hesitated a moment, then darted to Katherine, and throw- 
ing his arms round her neck, clung to her lovingly. She was 
infinitely touched and delighted. How vividly the past came 
back to her! the little dusty house at Bayswater, the homely 
establishment kept afloat by her dear mother’s industry, the 
small study, and the dear, weary face associated with it. How 
ardently she held the child to her heart! How thankfully she 
recognized that here was something to cherish and to live for! 

66 They may come with me to my room?” she said to her 
hostess. 

66 Oh, certainly! only, if you begin that sort of thing, you 
will never be able to get rid of them. ” 

44 I will risk it,” said Katherine, as she followed Mrs. Or- 
monde upstairs to a very comfortable room, where a cheerful 
fire blazed on the hearth. 

66 1 am afraid you find it rather small, but I was obliged to 
give the best bedroom to Lady Alice — noblesse oblige , you 
know. I am sure you will like her, she is so gentle; I think 
her father was very glad to let her come, as she can see more 
of her fiance . They are not to be married till the autumn, 
so — Oh, dear! there is the second bell. Cis, run away, and 
tell Madeline to come and help your auntie to dress; and you 
too, Charlie; you had better go too.” 

4 4 He may stay and help me to unpack. ” 

44 Why did you not bring your maid, dear? It is just like 
you to leave her behind; but we could have put her up; and 
you will miss her dreadfully.” 

44 1 do not think either of us has been so accustomed to the 


A CROOKED PATH. 159 

attentions of a maid as not to be able to do without one/* re- 
turned Katherine, smiling. 

“ You know / always had a maid in India/* said Mrs. Or- 
monde, with an air of superiority. “ Don*t be long oyer your 
toilet; Ormonde’s cardinal virtue is punctuality.** 

In spite of the hinderance of her nephew’s help, Katherine 
managed to reach the drawing-room before Lady Alice or the 
master of the house. Mrs. Ormonde was talking to an elderly 
gentleman in clerical attire beside the fire-place, and at some 
distance a tall, dignified-looking man was reading a newspaper. 
Mrs. Ormonde was most becomingly dressed in black satin, 
richly trimmed with lace and jet — a brilliant contrast to Kath- 
erine, in thick, dull silk and crape, her snowy neck looking all 
the more softly white for its dark setting; the only relief to 
her general blackness was the glinting light on her glossy, 
wavy chestnut-brown hair. 

“ You have been very quick, dear,” said the hostess. “ I 
am going to send you in to dinner/* she added, in a low tone, 
“ with Mr. Errington, our neighbor. He is the head of the 
great house of Errington in Calcutta, and the fiance of Lady 
Alice; but Colonel Ormonde must take her in. Mr. Erring- 
ton!** raising her voice. The gentleman thus summoned laid 
down his paper and came forward. “ Let me introduce you 
to my sister. Miss Liddell. ’* Mr. Errington bowed, rather a 
stately bow, as he gazed with surprised. interest at the large 
soft eyes suddenly raised to his, then quickly averted, the 
swift blush which swept over the speaking face turned toward 
him, the indescribable shrinking of the graceful figure, as if 
this stranger dreaded and would fain avoid him. It was but 
for a moment: then she was herself again, and the door open- 
ing to admit Lady Alice, Errington hastened to greet her with 
chivalrous respect, and remained beside her chair until Colonel 
Ormonde entered with the butler, who announced that dinner 
was ready. 


CHAPTER XIY. 

m THE TOILS. 

The drawing and dining-rooms at Castleford were at op- 
posite sides of a large square hall, and even in the short tran- 
sit between them Errington felt instinctively that Miss Liddell 
shrunk from him. The tips merely of her black -gloved 
fingers rested on his arm, while she kept as far from him as 
the length of her own permitted. At table her host was on 
her right, and Lady Alice opposite, next to the rector, who 


160 


A CROOKED PATH. 


was the only invited guest; Errington was always expected, 
and had returned from a distant canvassing expedition, for 
the present member for West Clayshire was believed to be on 
the point of retiring on account of ill health, and Mr. Erring- 
ton of Garston Hall intended to offer himself for election to 
the free and independent. 

He had had a fatiguing day, but scarcely admitted to him- 
self how much more restful a solitary dinner would have been, 
with a cigar and some keen-edged article or luminous pamphlet 
in his own comfortable library afterward, than making con- 
versation at Colonel Ormonde's table. However, to slight the 
lady who had promised to be his wife was impossible, so he 
exerted himself to be agreeable. 

The rector discussed some parish difficulties with his hostess, 
while Colonel Ormonde, though profoundly occupied with his 
dinner, managed to throw an observation from time to time to 
his young neighbors. 

“ Bode round by Brinkworth Heath in two hours and a 
half," he was saying to Lady Alice, when Katherine listened. 
“ That was fair going. I did not think you would have got 
Mrs. Ormonde to start without an escort." 

“ We had an escort. Lord Francis Carew and Mr. De 
Burgh came over to luncheon, and they rode with us. " 

“ Ha, Errington! you see the result of leaving this fair 
lady's side all unguarded! These fellows come and usurp 
your duties." 

Do you think 1 should wish Lady Alice to forego any 
amusement because I am so unlucky as to be prevented from 
joining her?" returned Errington, in a deep, mellow voice. 

Katherine looked across the table to see how Lady Alice took 
the remark, but she was rearranging some geraniums and a 
spray of fern in her waistband, and did not seem to hear. She 
was a slight colorless girl of nineteen, with regular features, 
an unformed though rather graceful figure, and a distinguished 
air. 

Errington caught the expression of his neighbor's face as 
she glanced at his fiancee, a sympathetic smile parting her lips. 
It was rarely that a countenance had struck him so much, 
which was probably due to his odd but strong impression that 
his new acquaintance was both startled and displeased at being 
introduced to him — an impression very strange to Errington, 
as he was generally welcomed by all sorts and conditions of 
men and especially women. 

The silence of Lady Alice did not seem to disturb her lover; 


A CROOKED PATH. 161 

he turned to Katherine and asked: “ Were you of the riding 
party to-day?” 

“ No,” she replied, meeting his eyes fully for an instant, 
and then averting her own, while the color came and went on 
her cheek; “ I only arrived in time for dinner.” 

“ Have 1 ever met this young lady before?” thought Er- 
ring ton, much puzzled. “ Have I ever unconsciously offended 
or annoyed her? I don’t think so; yet her face is not quite 
strange to me.” And he applied himself to his dinner. 

“ 1 fancy you have had rather a dull time of it in town?” 
said Colonel Ormonde, leaning back, while the servants re- 
moved the dishes. 

“ No, I was not dull,” replied Katherine, glad to turn to 
him. “ I was very comfortable, and of course not in a mood 
to see many strangers or to go anywhere. Then 1 was inter- 
ested in Mr. Payne’s undertakings; they are quite as amusing 
as amusements.” 

“ Bertie Payne! to be sure; the nephew or brother of your 
doughty chaperon. He is always up to some benevolent 
games. Queer fellow. ” 

‘‘He is very, very good,” said Katherine, warmly, “and 
he does so much good; only the amount of evil is overpower- 
ing. ” 

“Yes,” said Errington; “I am afraid such efforts as 
Payne’s are mere scratching of the surface, and will never 
touch the root of the evil.” 

“ I suspect he is a prey to impostors of every description,” 
said Colonel Ormonde, with a fat laugh. “ He is always 
worrying for subscriptions and God knows what. But I turn 
a deaf ear to him. ” 

“ 1 can not say 1 do always,” remarked Errington. “ While 
we devise schemes of more scientific amelioration, hundreds 
die of sharp starvation or misery long drawn out. Payne is a 
good fellow, and enthusiasts have their uses.” 

“ You are so liberal yourself, Mr. Errington,” cried Mrs. 
Ormonde, “ I dare say you are often imposed upon in spite of 
your wisdom. ” 

“ My wisdom!” r^eated Errington, laughing. “ What an 
original idea, Mrs. Ormonde! Did you ever know I was ac- 
cused of wisdom?” he added, addressing Lady Alice. 

“ Papa says you are very sensible,” she returned, seriously. 

• “Of course,” cried Mrs. Ormonde. “ Why, he has written 
a pamphlet on c Our Colonies/ and something wonderful about 
the state of Europe — didn’t he, Mr. Heywood?” 

“ Yes,” returned the rector. “ I suspect our future mem- 


162 


A CROOKED PATH. 


ber will be a cabinet minister before the world is many years 
older. ” 

Lady Alice looked up with more of pleasure and animation 
than she had yet shown. Errington bent his head. 

“ Many thanks for your prophecy;” and he immediately 
turned the conversation to the ever-genial topics of hunting 
and horses. Then Mrs. Ormonde gave the signal of reteat to 
the drawing-room. 

Here Katherine looked in vain for her nephews. 

“ I suppose the boys have gone to bed, Ada?” 

“ To bed! oh, yes, of course. Why, it is more than half 
past eight; it would never do to keep them up so late. Would 
you like to see baby boy asleep? he looks quite beautiful.” 

“ Yes, I should, very much,” returned Katherine, anxious 
to gratify the mother. 

“ Come, then,” cried Mrs. Ormonde, starting up with 
alacrity. As the invitation was general. Lady Alice said, in 
her gentle way: 

“ Thank you; 1 saw the baby yesterday.” 

“ She has really very little feeling,” observed Mrs. Ormonde, 
as she went upstairs with her sister-in-law. “ She never 
notices baby.” 

“Iam afraid 1 should not notice children much if they did 
not belong to me.” 

“ My dear Katherine, you are quite different. Of course 
Lady Alice is sweet and elegant, but not clever. Indeed, I 
can not see the use of cleverness to women. There is a fine 
aristocratic air about her. After all, there is nothing like high 
birth. 1 assure you it is a high compliment her being allowed 
to stay here. Her aunt. Lady Mary Vincent, is a very fine 
lady indeed, and chaperons Lady Alice. But her father, Lord 
Melford, is a curious, reckless sort of man, always wandering 
about — yachting and that kind of thing; he is rather in diffi- 
culties too. They are glad enough to send her down here to 
see something of Errington. You know Errington is a very 
good match; he has bought a great deal of the Melford prop- 
erty, and when old Errington dies he will be immensely rich. 
The poor old man is in miserable health; 11 he has not been down 
here all the winter. I believe the wedding is to take place in 
June; we will be invited, of course; you see Colonel Ormonde 
is so highly connected that I am in a very different position 
from what I was accustomed to. And you, dear, you mud 
marry some person of rank; there is nothing like it.” 

“Yes,” said Katherine, with a sigh, “everything is 
changed. ” 


A CROOKED PATH. 163 

“ Fortunately!” cried the exultant Mrs. Ormonde, opening 
the door of a luxuriously appointed nursery. 

“ Here, nurse, I have brought Miss Liddell to see Master 
Ormonde.” 

A middle-aged woman, well-dressed, and of authoritative 
aspect, rose from where she sat at needle- work, and came for- 
ward. 

“ I have only just got him to sleep, ma’am,” she said, 
almost in a whisper, “ and if he is awoke now. I’ll not get him 
off again before midnight/’ 

“ We’ll be very careful, nurse. Is he not a fine little fellow, 
Katherine?” and she softly turned back the bed-clothes from 
the sturdy, chubby child, who had a somewhat bull-dog style 
of countenance and a beautifully fair skin. 

“ How ridiculously like Colonel Ormonde he is!” whispered 
Katherine. “ I do not see any trace of you.” 

“ No; he is quite an Ormonde. He is twice as big as either 
Cis or Charlie was at his age.” 

After a few civil comments Katherine suggested their visit- 
ing the other children. 

“ Perhaps it would be wiser not to go,” said the mother; 
“ they will not be so sound asleej) as baby, and — ” 

“ You must indulge me this once, Ada. I long to look at 
them. ” 

“ Oh! of course, dear; ring for Eliza, nurse; she will show 
Miss Liddell the way. I must go back; it would never do to 
leave Lady Alice so long alone.” 

“ Do not apologize,” said Katherine, with a curious jealous 
pang, as she noted Mrs. Ormonde’s indifference to the children 
of her first poor love-match. 

A demure, fiat-faced girl answered the bell, and led Kath- 
erine down passages and up a crooked stair to another part of 
the house. 

Here she was shown into a room sparsely supplied with old 
furniture. There was a good fire, and a shaded lamp stood on 
a large table, where a girl sat writing. 

“Here is a lady to see the young gentlemen,” said the 
nurse-maid. The young scribe started up, looking confused. 

“If it would not disturb them.” said Katherine, gently, 
“ I should like to see my nephews is their sleep.” 

“Oh, Miss Liddell!” exclaimed the governess, a younger, 
commoner-looking person than Katherine had chosen before 
she left England. “ This is their bedroom,” and she led 
Katherine through a door opposite the fire-place into an inner 


164 


A CROOKED PATH. 


room. There in their little heels lay the boys who were all of 
kith or kin left to Katherine Liddell. 

How lovingly she bent over and gazed at them! 

Cecil had grown much. He looked sunburned and healthy. 
One arm was thrown up behind his head, the other stretched 
and stiff beside him, ending in a closely clinched little brown 
fist. His lips, slightly apart, emitted the softly drawn, regu- 
lar breath of profound slumber, and the smile which some 
pleasant thought had conjured up before he closed his eyes 
still lingered round his mouth. Katherine longed to kiss 
hini, but feared to break his profound and restful slumbers. 
She passed to Charlie. His attitude was quite different. He 
had thrown the clothes from his chest, and his pinky white 
throat was bare; one little hand layjopen on the page of a pict- 
ure-book at which he had been looldng when sleep overtook 
him; the other was under his soft round cheek; his sweet and 
still baby face was grave if not sad. He looked like a little 
angel who had brought a message to earth, and was grieved 
and wearied by the sin and sorrow here below, Katherine's 
heart swelled with tenderest love as she gazed upon him, and 
unconsciously she bent closer till her lips touched his brow. 
Then a little hand stole into hers, and without moving, as 
though he had expected her, he opened his eyes and whispered: 
44 Will you come and kiss me every night, as grannie did?" 

44 1 will, my darling, every night." 

44 Will grannie never come and kiss me again?" 

44 Never, Charlie! She will never come to either of us in 
this life." A big tear fell on the boy's forehead. 

44 Don't cry, auntie; she loves us all the same." And he 
kissed the fair cheek which now lay against his own as his 
aunt knelt beside his bed. 

44 Go to sleep, dear love; to-morrow you shall take me to 
see your garden and the pony. " 

44 You will be sure to come?" 

44 Yes, quite sure." 

In a few minutes the clasp of the warm little hand relaxed, 
and Katherine gently disengaged herself. 

44 The boys are no longer first in their mother's heart," 
thought Katherine, as she returned to the drawing-room. 
44 Were they ever first? They are — they might become all the 
world to me. They might fill my life and give it a fresh as- 
pect. The new ties at which Mr. Newton hinted can never 
exist for me. Could I accept any honorable man and live with 
a perj)etual secret between us? Could 1 ever confess? No. 
My most hopeful scheme is to be a mother to these children. 


A CROOKED PATH. 


165 


And oh! I do want to be happy, to feel the joy in life that 
used to lift up my spirit in the old days when we were strug- 
gling with poverty! I will throw off this load of self-cou- 
tempt. I have not really injured any one.” 

In the drawing-room Colonel Ormonde was seated beside 
Lady Alice, making conversation to the best of his ability. 
She looked serenely content, and held a piece of crochet, the 
kind of fancy-work which occupied the young ladies in the 
“ sixties.” The rector and Mr. Errington were in deep con- 
versation on the hearth-rug, and Mrs. Ormonde was reading 
the paper. 

“ So you have been visiting the nursery?” said the colonel, 
rising and offering Katherine a chair. “ Your first introduc- 
tion to our young man, I suppose?” 

“ Yes. What a great boy he is! — the picture of health!” 

“Ay, he is a Trojan,” complacently. “The other little 
fellows are looking well, eh?” 

“ Very well indeed. Cis is wonderfully grown; but Charlie 
is much what he was.” 

“ HeTl overtake his brother, though, before long,” said 
Colonel Ormonde, encouragingly, as he rang and ordered the 
card-table to be set. 

“ You play whist, I suppose? We want a fourth.” 

“ I am quite ignorant of that fascinating game,” returned 
Katherine, “ and very sorry to be so useless.” 

“ It is lamentable ignorance! Lady Alice, will you take 
compassion on us? No?— then we must have Errington.” 

Errington did not seem at all reluctant, and the two young 
ladies were left to entertain each other. 

Katherine, who had gone to the other end of the room to 
look at some water-color drawings, came back and sat down 
beside her. Lady Alice looked amiable, but did not speak, 
and Katherine felt greatly at a loss what to say. 

“ What very fine work!” she said at length, watching the 
small, weak-looking hands so steadily employed. 

“ Yes, it is a very difficult pattern. My aunt, Lady Mary, 
never could manage it, and she does a great deal of crochet, 
and is very clever.” 

‘ 4 It seems most complicated. I am sure I could never 
do it.” 

“ Do you crochet much?” 

“ Not at all.” 

“ Then,” with some appearance of interest, “ what do you 


1(36 


A CROOKED PATH. 



64 Oh! various things; but I am afraid I am not industrious. 
1 would rather mend my clothes than do fancy-work.” 

44 Mend your clothes!” repeated Lady Alice, in unfeigned 
amazement. 

44 Yes. I assure you there is great pleasure in a symmetrical 
patch.” 

44 But does not your maid do that?” 

44 Now that I have one, she does. However, you must show 
me how to crochet, if you will be so kind; my only approach 
to fancy-work is knitting. I can knit stockings. Isn’t that 
an achievement?” 

44 But is it not tiresome?” 

44 Oh! I can knit like the Germans, and talk or read.” 

44 Is it possible?” A long pause. 

44 Mrs. Ormonde says you are very learned and studious,” 
said Lady Alice, languidly. 

44 How cruel of her to malign me!” returned Katherine, 
laughing. 44 Learned I certainly am not; but I am fond of 
indiscriminate reading, though not studious. ’ ’ 

44 1 like a nice novel, with dreadful people in it, like Miss 
St. Mauris. Have you read any of hers?” 

44 1 don’t think so. I do not know the name.” 

44 The St. Maurs are Devonshire people — a very old country 
family, I believe. Still, when she writes about the season in 
London, 1 don’t think it is very like.” Another pause. 

44 You have been in Italy, I think, Lady Alice?” recom- 
menced Katherine. 

44 Oh, yes, often. Papa is always cruising about, you know, 
and we stop at places. But I have never been. in Rome.” 

44 Yachting must be delightful.” 

44 1 do not like it; I am always ill. Aunt Mary took me to 
Florence for a winter. ” 

44 Then you enjoyed that, I dare say,” said Katherine. 

44 1 got tired of it. I do not care for living abroad; there is 
nothing to do but to go to picture-galleries and theaters.” 

44 Well, that is a good deal,” returned Katherine, smiling. 
44 Where do you like to Jive, Lady Alice?” 

44 Oh, in the country. I am almost sorry Mr. Errington 
has a house in town. I am so fond of a garden, and riding 
on quiet roads! I am afraid to ride in London. The country 
is so peaceful! no one is in a hurry.” 

44 What a happy, tranquil life she will lead under the a3gis 
of such a man as Mr. Errington!” thought Katherine. 

“Do you play or sing?” asked Lady Alice, for once taking 
the initiative. 


A CROOKED PATH. 


167 


“ Yes, in a very amateur fashion.” 

“ Then,,” with more animation, “perhaps you would play 
my accompaniments for me; I always like to stand when I 
sing. Mrs. Ormonde says she forgets her music. Is it not 
odd?” 

“ Well, people in India do as little as possible. I shall be 
very pleased to play for you. Shall we practice to-morrow?” 

“ Oh, yes; immediately after breakfast. There is really 
nothing to do here.” 

“ Immediately after breakfast I am going out with the boys 
— Mrs. Ormonde’s boys. Have you see them? But we shall 
have plenty of time before luncheon.” 

“ Are you fond of children?” slowly, while her busy needle 
paused and she undid a stitch or two. 

“ I am fond of these children; I do not know much about 
any other.” 

“ Beverley’s children (my eldest brother’s) are very trouble- 
some; they annoy me very much.” Silence while she took up 
her stitches again. “ The worst of this pattern is that if you 
talk you are sure to go wrong.” 

“ Then I will find a book and not disturb you,” said Kath- 
erine, good-humoredly. She felt kindly and indulgent toward 
this gentle, helpless creature, who seemed so many years 
younger than herself, though barely two, in fact. That she 
was Brrington’s fiancee gave her a curious interest in Kath- 
erine’s eyes. She would willingly have done him all possible 
good; she was strangely attracted to the man she had cheated. 
There was a simple, natural dignity about him that pleased her 
imagination, yet she almost dreaded to speak to him, lest the 
very tones of her voice, the encounter of their eyes, should be- 
tray her. 

At last Errington, looking at his watch, declared that as the 
rubber was over, he must say good-night. 

“ What, are you not staying here to-night?” said Colonel 
Ormonde. 

“ Ko; I have a good deal of letter-writing to get through 
to-morrow, so did not accept Mrs. Ormonde’s kind invitation. ” 

“ You’ll have a deuced cold drive. Come over on Thurs- 
day, will you? Old Wray, the banker, is to dine here, and 
one or twoMonckton worthies. Stay till Tuesday or Wednes- 
day. The next meets are Friday and Monday, on this side of 
the county. There will not be many more this season.” 

“ Thank you; I shall be very happy.” He crossed to where 
Lady Alice still sat placidly at work, and made his adieus in a 
low tone, holding her hand for a moment longer than mere 


1G8 


A CROOKED PATH. 


acquaintanceship warranted, and having exchanged good- 
nights, left the room, followed by his host. 

There was a good fire in Katherine's bedroom, and having 
declined the assistance of Mrs. Ormonde's maid, she put on j 
her dressing-gown and sat down beside it to think. She was j 
still quivering with the nervous excitement she had striven so j 
hard and so successfully to conceal. 

When Mrs. Ormonde had given her rapid explanation of [ 
who Errington was, and without a pause presented him, Kath- 
erine felt as if she must drop at his feet. Indeed, she would j 
have been thankful if a merciful insensibility had made her 
impervious to his questioning eyes. She well knew who he 
was. 

He was the real owner of the property she now possessed. 
The will she had suppressed bequeathed all John Liddell's real 
and personal property to Miles Errington, only son of his old 
friend Arthur Errington, of Calton Buildings, London E. C., 
and Calcutta. She, the robber, stood in the presence of the 
robbed. Did he know by intuition that she was guilty? How 
grave and questioning his eyes were! Why did he look at her 
like that? How he would despise her and forbid his affianced 
wife to be outraged by her presence if he knew! 

He looked like a high-minded gentleman. If he seemed 
almost sternly grave, his smile was kind and frank, and she 
had made herself unworthy to associate with such men as he. 

But he was rich. He did not need the money she wanted 
so sorely. What of that? Did his abundance alter the ever- 
lasting conditions of right and wrong? Perhaps if she had 
not attempted to play Providence for the sake of her family, 
and let things follow their natural course, Mr. Errington 
might have spared a few crumbs from his rich table — a rea- 
sonable dole — to patch up the ragged edges of their frayed 
fortunes. Then she. would not be thus oppressed with the 
sense of shame, this weight of riches she shrunk from using. 
She had murdered her own happiness; she had killed her own 
youth. Never again could she know the joyousness of light- 
hearted girlhood, while nothing the world might give her could 
aton*6 for the terrible trespass which had broken the harmony 
of her moral nature by the perpetual sense of unatoned wrong- 
doing. How she wished she had never come to Castleford ! 
True, her seeing Mr. Errington did not make her guilt a shade 
darker, but oh, how much more keenly she felt it under his 
eyes! And now she could not rush away. She must avoid all 
eccentricities lest they might possibly arouse suspicion. Sus- 
picion? What was there to suspect? No one would dream of 



A CROOKED PATH. 


169 


suspicion. Then that will! She would try and nerve herself 
to destroy it, though it seemed sacrilege to do so. Whatever 
she did, however, she must think of Cis and Charlie. Having 
committed such an act, her only course was to bear the conse- 
quences, and do her duty by the innocent children, whose fate 
would be cruel enough should she indulge in any weak repent- 
ance or seek relief in confession. She had burdened herself 
with a disgraceful secret, and she must bear it her life long. 
It gave her infinite pain to face Miles Errington, yet while at 
one moment she -longed to fly from him, the next she felt an 
extraordinary desire to hear him speak, to learn the prevailing 
tone of his mind, to know his opinions. There was an earnest- 
ness in his look and manner that appealed to her sympathies. 
He was a just, upright gentleman. What would he think of 
the dastardly deed by which she had robbed him? 

“ I must not think of it. 1 must try and forget 1 ever did 
it, and be as good and true as I can in all else. An d the will! 
I must destroy it. I am sure my poor old uncle meant to do 
away with it. Perhaps if it were clean gone I might feel more 
at rest. How strange it is that instead of growing accustomed 
to the contemplation of my own dishonesty I become more 
keenly alive to the shame of my act as time rolls on! Perhaps 
if I am brave and resolute 1 may conquer the scorpion stings 
of self-reproach. How dear those two sweet, peaceful years 
have cost me! Would 1 undo it all to save myself these 
pangs? No. Then I suppose to bear is to conquer one^s 
fate.” 


CHAPTER XV. 

CROSS-PURPOSES. 

The first ten days at Castleford would have been dull indeed 
to Katherine but for the society of Cis and Charlie in the 
mornings, and the interest she took in watching Errington 
(who was of course a frequent visitor) in the evenings. 

Though she avoided conversing with him as much as possi- 
ble, he was a constant study to her. He was different from all 
the men she had previously met. She often wondered if any- 
thing could disturb him or hurry him. Had he ever climbed 
trees and torn his clothes, or thrashed an adversary? Had he 
any weaknesses, or vivid joys, or passionate longings? Yet he 
did not seem a prig. His manner, though dignified, was easy 
and natural; his eyes, though steady and penetrating, were 
kindly; his bearing had the repose of strength. It was too 


170 


A CROOKED PATH. 


awful to contemplate what his estimate of herself would be if 
he knew; but then he must never knQw! 

As it was, he seemed inclined to be friendly and communi- 
cative, pleased when he met her strolling in the garden with 
Lady Alice, and gratified to find that she could accompany his 
fiancee’s songk. Indeed he said he had never heard Lady 
Alice sing so well as when Miss Liddell played for her. 

Apart from the boys and Errington, Katherine found time 
hang very heavily on her hands. The aimless lingering over 
useless fancy-work or second-rate novels, the discussion of such 
gossip as their correspondence supplied, by means of which 
Mrs. Ormonde and Lady Alice got through the day, were in- 
finitely wearisome to her. 

Miles Errington was one of those happy individuals said to 
be born with a silver spoon in his mouth. The only son of a 
wealthy father, who, though enriched by trade, had come of 
an old Border race, he had had the best education money could 
procure. More fortunate still in the endowments of nature, 
he was well-formed, strong, active, and blessed with perfect 
health; while mentally he was intelligent and reflective, 
thoughtful rather than brilliant, and by temperament pro- 
foundly calm. He had never got into scrapes or committed 
extravagance. He was the despair of managing mammas and 
fascinating young married women; yet he w’as not unpopular 
with either sex. Men respected his strong, steady character, 
his high standard, his sound judgment in matters affecting the 
stable and the race -course; women were attracted by his 
obligingness a»d generosity. Still he was the sort of man with 
whom few became intimate, and none dared take a liberty. 
Preserved by his fortunate surroundings and strong, tranquil 
nature from difficulties or temptations, he could hardly under- 
stand the passionate outbreaks of weaker and more fiery men. 

His greatest physical pleasure was an exciting run with the 
hounds; his deepest interest centered in politics; though never 
indulging in sentiment, he was an earnest patriot. Whether 
he could be moved by more personal feelings remained to be 
proved. At present the sources of tenderer affection, if they 
existed, lay so deep below the strata of reason and common 
sense that only some artesian process could pierce to the im- 
prisoned springs, and set the “ water of life ” free, perhaps to 
bound, geyser-like, into the outer air. 

Having traveled by sea and land, and looked into the social 
and political condition of many countries, having mixed much 
with men and women at home and abroad, Errington thought 
it time to take his place in the great commonwealth — to 




A CROOKED PATH. 


171 


marry, and to try for a seat in the House of Commons. He 
therefore selected Lady Alice Mordaunt. She was rather 
pretty, graceful, gentle, and quite at his service. He really 
liked her in a sort of fatherly way; he looked forward with 
quiet pleasure to making her very happy, and did not doubt 
she would, in his hands, mature into a sufficient companion, for 
though Errington was not naturally a selfish man, his life and 
training disposed him to look on those connected with him as 
on the whole created for him. 

He had been absent for two or three days, having gone up 
to town to visit his father, who had been somewhat seriously 
unwell, and as he rode toward Castleford he gave more thought 
than usual to his young fiancee . In truth, a visit to Colonel 
Ormonde was a great bore to him. He had nothing in com- 
mon with the colonel, whose pig-headed conservatism jarred 
on Errington’s broader views, while his stories and reminis- 
cences were exceedingly uninteresting, and sometimes worse. 
Mrs. Ormonde’s small coquetries, her airs and graces, were 
equally unattractive to him. Still it was well to have Lady 
Alice at Castleford, within Basy reach, while there was so 
much to occupy his time and attention in the country. As 
soon as he was sure of his election he would hasten his mar- 
riage, and perhaps get the honey-moon over in time to take his 
seat while there was still a month or two of the session unex- 
pired. 

From Lady Alice it was an easy transition of thought to the 
new guest at Castleford. Where had he seen her face? and 
with what was he associated in her mind? Nothing agreeable; 
of that he was quite sure. The vivid blush and indescribable 
shrinking he had noticed more than once (and Errington, like 
most quiet men, was a close observer) seemed unaccountable. 
Miss Liddell was far from shy; she was well-bred and evident- 
ly accustomed to society; her avoidance had therefore made 
the more impression. His experience of life had hitherto been 
exceedingly unemotional, and Katherine’s unexpected betrayal 
of feeling puzzled him not a little. 

At this point in his reflections he had reached that part of 
the road where it dipped into a hollow, on one side of which 
the Melford Woods began. A steep bank rose on the right, 
thickly studded with beech- and oak-trees, still leafless, but the 
scanty, yellowish grass which grew beneath them was tufted 
with primroses and violets. 

As Errington came round a bend in the little valley the 
sound of shrill, childish laughter came pleasantly to his ear, 
and the next minute brought him in sight of a lady in mourn- 


172 


A CROOKED PATH. 


ing whom he recognized immediately, and two little boys, who 
were high up the bank, busily engaged filling a basket with 
sweet spring blossoms. 

Errington paused, dismounted, and raising, his hat, ap- 
proached her. 

“ I did not expect to meet you so far afield,” he said. 
“ You are not afraid of a long walk.” 

“ My nephews have led me on from flower to flower,” she 
returned, again coloring brightly, but not shrinking from his 
eyes. “ Now I think it is time to go home.” 

“ It is not late,” he retured. “ How is every one at Castle- 
ford?” 

“ Quite well. Lady Alice has lost her cold, and regained 
her voice — she was singing this morning,” said Katherine, 
smiling as if she knew the real drift of his question. 

46 1 am glad to hear it,” he returned, soberly. 

Errington and Lady Alice did not write to each other every 
day. 

“Auntie,” cried Cis, the basket is quite full. If you 
open your sunshade and hold it upside-down, 1 can fill that 
too.” 

“ No, dear; you have quite enough. We must go back 
now.” 

“Oh, not yet, please!” The little fellow came tumbling 
down the bank, followed by Charlie, who immediately caught 
his aunt’s hand and repeated, “ Not yet, auntie!” 

“ These are Mrs. Ormonde’s boys, I suppose?” said Erring- 
ton. 

“ Yes; have you never seen them before?” 

“ Never. And have you not had enough climbing?” he 
added, good-humoredly, to Charlie. 

“ No, not half enough!” cried Cis. “ There’s such a bunch 
of violets just under that biggest beech* tree, nearly up at the 
top! Do let me gather them — just those; do — do — do!” 

“Very well; do not go too fast, or you will break your 
neck. ” 

Both boys started off, leaving their basket at Katherine’s 
feet. 

“ I remember now,” said Errington, looking at her, “ where 
I saw you before. It was two — nearly three — years ago, at 
Hyde Park Corner, when that elder boy had a narrow escape 
from being run over. ” 

“ Were you there?” she exclaimed, so evidently surprised 
that Errington saw the impulse was genuine. “ I recollect 
Mr. Payne and Colonel Ormonde; but I did not see you.” 


A CROOKED PATH. 173 

“ Then where have you met me?” was at his lips, but he 
did not utter the words. 

“ Well, Payne was of real service; I did nothing. The lit- 
tle fellow had a close shave.” 

“ He had indeed,” said Katherine, thoughtfully, with down- 
cast eyes; then, suddenly raising them to his, she said, as if to 
herself, “ And you were there too! How strange it all is!” 

“ I see nothing so strange in it. Miss Liddell,” smiling good- 
humoredly. “ Have you any superstition on the subject?” 

“ No; 1 am not superstitious; yet it was curious — 1 mean, 
to meet by accident on that day just before — ” She stopped. 
“ And now’ I am connected with Colonel Ormonde, living with 
Mr. Payne's sister, and — and talking here with — you . ” 

“ These coincidences occur perpetually when people move 
in the same set, ” returned Errington, feeling absurdly curious, 
and yet not knowing how to get at the train of recollection or 
association which underlay her words — words evidently un- 
studied and impulsive. 

“ I suppose so. And, you know — Mr. Payne,” Katherine 
continued, quickly — “ how good he is! He lives completely 
for others. ” 

“ Yes, I believe him to be thoroughly, honestly good. How 
hard he toils, and with what a pitiful result!” 

“ I wish he would go. Why does he stand there making 
conversation?” thought Katherine, while she said aloud: “I 
don't see that. If every one helped two or three poor creat- 
ures whom they knew, we should not have all this poverty and 
suffering, which are distracting to think about.” 

“ I doubt it; it would be more likely to pauperize the whole 
nation. ” 

Here Charlie and Cis, with earth-stained knees and hands — 
the latter full of violets — reluctantly descended. Adding 
these to the basket already overflowing, they had a short wran- 
gle as to who should carry it, and then Katherine turned her 
steps homeward. Errington passed the bridle over his arm, 
and, to her great annoyance, walked beside her. 

“ Are you, then, disposed to give yourself to faith and to 
good works?” 

U I do not know. I should like to help those who want, 
but I fear I am too fond of pleasure to sacrifice myself — at 
least I was, and I suppose the love will return. Of course it 
is easy to give money; it is hard to give one's self.” 

“ You seem very philosophic for so young a lady.” 

“ I am not young,” said Katherine, sadly; “ I am years 
older than Lady Alice.” 


174 


A CROOKED PATH. 


“ How many — one or two?” asked Errington, in liis kind, 
fatherly, somewhat superior tone, which rather irritated her. 

“ The years 1 mean are not to be measured py the ordinary 
standard; even you must know that some years last longer — 
no, that is not the expression — press heavier than others.” 

“ Even 1? Do you think I am specially matter-of-fact?” 

“ I have no right to think you anything, for 1 do not know 
r you; but you give me that impression.” 

“ 1 dare say I am; nor do I see why I should object to be so 
considered.” 

Here Cecil, who got tired of a conversation from which he 
could gather nothing, put in his oar : 6 4 Are you Mr. Erring- 
ton?” 

“ I am. How do you know my name?” 

“ 1 saw you going out with the colonel to the meet — oh, a 
long while ago! And Miss Bichards and nurse were talking 
about you.” 

“ They said you had a real St. Bernard dog — one that gets 
the people out of the snow,” cried Charlie. “ Will you let 
him come here? I want to see him.” 

“ You had better come and pay him a visit.” 

“ Oh, yes, thank you!” exclaimed Cis. “ Auntie will take 
us, perhaps. Auntie will take us to the sea-side, and then we 
shall bathe, and go in boats, and learn to row. ” 

“ Cis, run with me to that big tree at the foot of the hill. 
Auntie will carry the basket/’ cried Charlie, and the next mo- 
ment they were olf. 

“ Fine little fellows,” said Errington. “ I like children.” 

“ 1 am going to ask Mrs. Ormonde to lend them to me for 
a few months, for they are all 1 have of kith or kin. ” 

“ They are not at all like you,” returned Errington, letting 
his quiet, but to her most embarrassing, eyes rest upon her 
face. 

“ Yet they are my only brother’s children.” Here Kath- 
erine paused with a sense of relief; they had reached a stile 
where a foot-way led across some fields and a piece of common 
overgrown with bracken and gorse. It was the short cut to 
Castleford, by which Cecil had led her to the Melford Woods. 

“ Oh, do come round by the road, auntie,” he exclaimed; 
“ perhaps Mr. Errington will let me ride his horse.” 

“ I do not know if he will, Cis, but I certainly will not. I 
am tired too, dear, and want to get home the shortest way I 
can, so bid Mr. Errington good-bye, and come with me. No, 
don’t shake hands; yours are much too dirty.” 

“ Never mind; when you are a big boy I’ll give you a 


A CROOKED PATH. 


175 


mount. Good-bye, Master Charlie — you are Charlie, are you 
not? Till we meet at dinner. Miss Liddell.” He raised his 
hat, and divining that she wished him to let her get over the 
stile unassisted, lie mounted his horse and rode swiftly away. 

“ I am sure he would have given me a ride if you had gone 
by the road, auntie,” said Cecil, reproachfully. 

“ 1 could not have allowed you, dear; so do not think about 
it.” Errington meanwhile rode on, unconsciously slackening 
his pace as he mused. “No, she certainly has never seen me 
before, yet she knows me. How? She was very glad to get 
rid of me just now. Why? 1 am inoffensive enough. There 
is something uncommon about her; she gives me the idea of 
having a history, which is anything but desirable for a young 
woman. What fine eyes she has! She is something like that 
Sibyl of Guercino’s in the Capitol. Why does she object to 
me? It is rather absurd. I must make her talk, then I shall 
find out. ” 

Here his horse started, and broke the thread of his reflec- 
tions. By the time the steed had pranced and curveted a lit- 
tle, Errington ’s thoughts had turned into some of their usual 
graver channels, and Katherine Liddell was — well, not abso- 
lutely forgotten. 

The object of his reflections reached the house rather late 
for the boys* tea, and expecting to find her hostess and Lady 
Alice enjoying the same refreshment, she gave her warm out- 
door jacket to Cecil, who immediately put it on as the best 
mode of taking it upstairs, and went into Mrs. . Ormonde’s 
morning-room, where afternoon tea was always served. It 
was a pleasant room in warm summer weather, as its aspect 
was east, and the afternoons were cool and shady there; but 
of a chill evening at the end of March it was cold and dim, 
and needed the glow of a good fire to make it attractive. 

Daylight still lingered in the sky, but was fast fading, and 
the dancing light of a cheerful fire was a pleasant contrast to 
the gray shadows without. The room was very nondescript; 
its furniture was of the spidery fashion which ruled when the 
“ first gentleman ” held the reins; thin hard sofas and scanty 
draperies were supplemented by Persian rugs and showy cush- 
ions,** while various specimens of doubtful china crowded the 
mantel-piece and consoles. Mrs. Ormonde was quite innocent 
of original taste, but was a quick, industrious imitator, while 
of comfortable chairs she was a most competent judge. 

Quite sure of finding Mrs. Ormonde, Lady Alice, and Miss 
Brereton — another visitor — refreshing themselves after their 
out-door exercise, and intending to announce the pleasant 




176 


A CROOKED PATH. 


news of Errington*s return, Katherine exclaimed: 44 Lady 
Alice !** as she crossed the threshold, then seeing no one, 
stopped. 

44 Lady Alice is not here/* said a strong, harsh voice, and a 
tall figure in a shooting-coat and gaiters rose from the depths 
of a large arm-chair, the back of which was toward the door, 
and stood before her. 

Katherine was slightly startled, but guessed it was one of 
two guests who were expected to arrive that day. She ad- 
vanced, therefore, and said: 44 Mrs. Ormonde is unusually late, 
but I am sure she will soon be here.** 

44 Meantime tea is quite ready. It has stood twice the regu- 
lation five minutes; and is there any just cause or impediment 
why it should not be poured out?** 

44 Not that I am aware of,** returned Katherine, taking off 
her hat and smoothing back her hair, which showed golden 
tints in the fitful fire-light. 

The low tea-table was set before the fire, she drew a chair 
beside it and removed the cozy from the tea-pot. 

Recognizing De Burgh from Mrs. Ormonde*s description, 
she felt that he was even more at home at Castleford than 
herself, and she also came to the conclusion that he knew who 
she was. She had been jnepared by Mrs. Ormonde*s evident 
admiration to dislike De Burgh, having made up her mind 
that he would prove an empty-headed, insolent grandee, whose 
pretensions imposed upon her sister-in-law*s somewhat slender 
experience, and whose life was probably given up to physical 
enjoyment. He had not, however, the aspect of a mere pleas- 
ure-seeker. His dark, strong face and bony frame looked as 
if he could work as well as play. 

64 Do you take sugar?** 

44 No, thank you; neither sugar nor cream.** 

44 Neither? That is very self-denying!** 

44 Not self-denying. Were I foolish enough to do what 1 
did not like, I should take the sugar and cream. They do not 
happen to please my palate. ** 

“ It is well we do not all like the same things.** 

44 It is indeed!** He held his cup untasted for a moment, 
looking thoughtfully into the fire. 44 Tea is the best drink 
you can have in difficult, fatiguing journeys. Even the gold- 
diggers of Australia know that. They drink hard enough 
when they are on the spree, but when at work in earnest they 
stick to the tea-pot,** he said, turning his eyes full upon her 
with a cool, critical gaze, which half amused, half irritated 
her. It was curious to sit there talking easily with a total 


A CROOKED PATH. 


177 


stranger. Perhaps she ought to have left him to himself, but 
it was not much matter. Looking toward the window to avoid 
her companion’s eyes, she exclaimed: 

“ It is raining quite fast! 1 am glad I brought the children 
home before this shower. ” 

“ An avant-courier of April. You were walking with Mrs. 
Ormonde’s boys, then?” 

“ Yes; I take them out every day.” 

“An uncommonly good-looking governess,” thought De 
Burgh. “ You have not been here long, I think?” he said. 

“ About three weeks. The boys are quite used to me now, 
and enjoy their walks, for I take them outside the grounds,” 
said Katherine, feeling sure that De Burgh must guess who 
she was. 

“Indeed! You are a daring innovator. I suppose they 
were kept on the premises till you came?” 

“ They were; and it is always tiresome to be kept within 
bounds . 99 

“ I quite agree with you. The sentiment is extremely nat- 
ural, only young ladies rarely confess it.” 

“ Why?” 

“ Oh, you ought to know better than I do. You give me 
the idea of being a plucky woman.” 

“You must be quick in gathering ideas,” said Katherine, 
dryly. 

“ Yes; some subjects inspire me,” he returned, handing in 
his cup. “ Another, please. I am a bit of a physiognomist. 
I think I could give a rough sketch of your character.” He 
stirred t}ie fire to a brighter blaze and added: “ It is so deuced 
dark since that shower came on I can hardly see you, but I 
will tell you my ideas, if you care to hear them . 99 

“ Yes, I should,” she returned, laughing. “ It will be curi- 
ous to hear the result of an instantaneous estimate. Why, five 
minutes ago you had never seen me.” 

“Five minutes? No; ten at least. Well, then, I should 
say you are a remarkably plucky girl, though perhaps not im- 
pervious to panic. And, let me see,” fixing his keen, fierce 
eyes on hers, “ gifted with no small power of enjoyment. 
With a strong dash of the rebel in you, and — Well, 1 could 
tell you more, but I won’t. ” 

Katherine laughed good-humoredly. 

“ Have I hit it ofi?” he asked, after waiting for her to 
speak. 

“ I can not tell. Do we ever know ourselves?” 

“ That’s true; but few admit their ignorance. I begin to 


178 


A CROOKED PATH. 


think that you are dangerous, in addition to your other quali- 
ties, as you can refrain from discussing yourself; that is a bait 
which draws out most women. ” 

“ And most men,” added Katherine. “ We haven't much 
to reproach each other with on that score.” 

“ No, I must admit that. Self is a fascinating topic.” 

“ Some more tea?” asked Katherine, demurely. 

“ No, thank you; 1 am not absolutely insatiable. Tell 
me,” he went on, with a quaint familiarity which was not 
offensive, “ how can a girl with your nature — mind, I have 
not told half I guess — how can you stand your life here — 
walking about with those brats, making tea while the others 
are out amusing themselves, hammering away at the same 
round day after day? You're made for different things. '' 

“ I should not care to live at Castleford all the days of my 
life,” said Katherine, a little surprised by his question, and 
feeling there was a mistake somewhere; “ but 1 do not intend 
to stay long. ” 

“ Oh, indeed! How do you get on with Mrs. Ormonde? 
She doesn't worry you about the boys? She is a jolly, pretty 
little woman; but you are not exactly the sort of young lady I 
should have fancied would be her choice. ” 

“ Why not?” asked Katherine, beginning to see his mis- 
take. 

“Because” — began De Burgh, looking full at her, and 
then paused. “You are too handsome by half!” were the 
words on his lips, but he did not utter them; he substituted, 
“ You don't seem quite the thing for Mrs. Ormonde. ” 

“ She finds I suit her admirably,” said Katherine, gravely. 

“1 don't quite understand” — De Burgh was beginning, 
when the door opened to admit Mrs. Ormonde. 

“ Ah, Mr. De Burgh, 1 did not expect you so early; but I 
am glad Katherine was here to give you your tea. It is not 
necessary to introduce you. I was afraid you would have been 
caught in that shower, Katie.” 

“We just escaped it. I hope Lady Alice has found shelter, 
or she will renew her cold.” 

“ You are Miss Liddell, then?” said De Burgh, as he placed 
a chair for Mrs. Ormonde and took her cloak. 

“ To be sure. Didn't you guess who she was?” 

“ Mr. De Burgh guessed a good deal, but he did not guess 
my identity,” said Katherine, handing her a cup of tea. 

“ What! Were you playing at cross-questions and crooked 
answers?” 

“ Something of that sort,” he returned, and changed the 


A CROOKED PATH. 179 

subject by asking if they had heard how Errington's father 
was. 

4 4 Better, I suppose, for Mr. Errington has returned. He 
met us when we were in Melford Woods / 5 

44 I dare say he met Alice and Miss Brereton, then,” said 
Mrs. Ormonde; 44 they were riding in that direction.” 

44 Lady Alice will be taken care of, then,” said Katherine, 
and taking her hat she went away, seeing that Mrs. Ormonde 
was quite ready to absorb the conversation. 

44 So that is Katherine Liddell,” said He Burgh, looking 
after her, regardless of Mrs. Ormonde's declaration that she 
was going to scold him. 

44 Yes. Is she not like what you expected?” 

44 Expected? I did not expect anything; but she isn't a bit 
like what you described!” 

44 How so? Did I say too much?” 

44 Yes, a great deal too much, but the wrong way. ” 

44 What do you mean?” 

44 Why, you talked as if she was a regular gushing school- 
girl, ready to swallow any double-barreled compliment one 
chose to offer, whereas she is a finely developed woman, by 
Jove! with brains, too, or I am much mistaken. Why, my 
charming little friend, she is older in some ways than you 
are.” 

44 Oh, nonsense! You need not flatter me.” 

44 It's not flattery, it's — ” 

The arrival of the riding-party with the addition of Erring- 
ton prevented him from finishing his sentence. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

HANDLING THE RIBBONS. 

De Burgh was told off to take Katherine in to dinner that 
day and the next, and bestowed a good deal of his attention 
on her during the evening. He rather amused her, for he was 
a new type to her. The men she had met during her sojourn 
on the Continent were chiefly polished French* and Italians, 
whose softness and respectful manner to women were perhaps 
exaggerated, and a sprinkling of diplomatic and dilettante 
Englishmen. De Burgh's style was curiously — almost roughly 
— frank, yet there was an unmistakable air of distinction about 
him. He seemed not to think it worth while to take trouble 
about anything, yet he could talk well when by chance a topic 
interested him, and Katherine would have been very dull had 
she not perceived that he was attracted by her. She was by 


180 


A CROOKED PATH. 


no means so exalted a character as to be indifferent to his 
tribute; nevertheless, she was half afraid of the cynical, out- 
spoken, high-born bohemian, who seemed to have small re- 
spect for people or opinions. She showed little of this feeling, 
however, having held her own with spirit in their various 
arguments, as, it need scarcely be said, they rarely agreed. 

“ What is this mysterious piece of work I see constantly in 
your hands ?” asked De Burgh, taking his place beside Kath- 
erine when the men came in after dinner a few days after his 
arrival. 

“ It is a black silk stocking for Cecil.” 

“ One of the nephews, eh? So you are capable of knitting! 
It must be a dreary occupation.” 

“ No; it becomes mechanical, and it is better than sitting 
with folded hands.” 

“ 1 am not sure it is. I have great faith in natures that 
can take complete rest — men who can do nothing, absolutely 
nothing — and so create a reserve fund of fresh energy for the 
next hour of need. There is no strength in fidgety feverish- 
ness. ” 

“ There is not much feverishness in knitting,” returned 
Katherine, beginning a new row. 

“ There is very little feverishness about you , yet you are not 
placid. I am extending and verifying my original estimate of 
your character, you see. ” 

“ A most interesting occupation,” said Katherine, care- 
lessly. 

“ Yes, most interesting. I wish 1 had more frequent op- 
portunities of studying it; but one never sees you all day. 
Where do you hide yourself?” 

“ I take long rambles with the children, and — ” She 

paused. 

“ Does it amuse you to play nurse-maid?” 

“ Yes, at present. Then my nephews and I were playfel- 
lows long ago.” 

“ I imagine it is a taste that will not last.” 

“ Perhaps not.” 

“ Miss Brereton and Lady Alice, with Erring ton and my- 
self, are going to ride over to Melford Abbey to-morrow. You 
will, I hope, be of the party?” 

“ Thank you. Ido not ride.” 

“ It is rather refreshing to meet a young lady who is not 
horsy, but it is a loss to yourself not to ride. ” 

“ I dare say it is. Yet what one has never known can not 


A CROOKED PATH. 181 

be a loss. I am sorry I was not accustomed to ride in my 
youth. ** 

44 It is not too late to learn, remote as that period must be/* 
said De Burgh, smiling. 66 You are in the head-quarters of 
horsemen and horsewomen at present. Appoint me your rid- 
ing-master, and in a couple of months I shall be proud of my 
pupil. ** 

44 I am not particularly brave/* she returned, 44 and the ex- 
periment would produce more pain than pleasure.** 

44 Pain! nothing of the kind. I have a capital lady*s horse, 
steady as a rock, splendid pacer, temper of an angel. He is 
quite at your service. Let me telegraph for him, and begin 
your lessons the day after to-morrow.** De Burgh raised him- 
self from his lounging position, and leaned forward to urge his 
pleading more earnestly. 44 Let me persuade you. You will 
thank me hereafter.** 

44 Thank you/* said Katherine, shaking her head. 44 It is 
too late. I shall never learn how to ride, but I should like to 
know how to drive. ** 

66 There I can be of use to you, too. You will want an in- 
structor. Pray take me!** 

The last words, spoken a little louder than the rest, caught 
Mrs. Ormonde*s ear as she was crossing the room, and she 
paused beside her sister-in-law to ask, 44 Take him for what? 
— for better or worse, Katherine?** 

4 4 Blundering little idiot!** thought De Burgh; while Kath- 
erine answered, with remarkable composure: 

44 Nothing so formidable; only to be my instructor in the 
art of driving. ** 

44 Well, and do you accept?** 

44 Yes; I shall be very pleased to learn. I should like to be 
able to 4 conduct * a pair of ponies, as the French would say. ** 

44 Ah, yes! and cut a dash in the park/* said Mrs. Ormonde, 
taking the seat De Burgh reluctantly vacated for her. 44 I 
don*t see why she should not, Mr. De Burgh; do you?’* 

44 Certainly not, provided only Miss Liddell can handle the 
ribbons.** 

44 Very well, Katherine; you devote yourself to acquire the 
art here, and then join us in a house in town this spring. I 
was reading the advertisements in the 4 Times * to-day* 1 
always look at the houses to let, and there is one to let in 
Chester Square which would suit us exactly; that is, if you will 
join. She ought to have a season in town, ought she not, 
Mr. De Burgh?’* 

He looked keenly at Katherine, and smiled. 44 Yes, Miss 


182 


A CROOKED PATH. 


Liddell ought to taste the incomparable delights of the season 
by all means. Life is incomplete without it.” 

“I should like to experience it, certainly, for once, but I 
shall be more in the mood for such excitements next year — 
perhaps ,” returned Katherine, gravely. 

“‘Oh, my dear Katie, never put things off. At all events, 
be presented. That would be a sort of beginning; and I am 
to be presented too, so we might go together.” 

“ I do not intend to be presented,” said Katherine; “ it 
would be needless trouble. I have not the least ambition to 
go to court.” 

“ But, Katherine, it is absolutely necessary to take your 
proper position in society. Is it not, Mr. De Burgh?” 

“ What is your objection?” asked De Burgh, disregarding 
his hostess. “ Are you too radical, or too transcendental, or 
what?” 

“ Neither. I simply do not care to go, and do not see the 
necessity of going.” 

“ You were always the strangest girl!” cried Mrs. Ormonde, 
a good deal annoyed. “But still, if you were with us , you 
might see a good deal — ” 

“ You know, Ada, I am fixed for this year, and would not 
change even if I could. ” 

“ Forgive me for interrupting you,” said Errington, coming 
from the next room. “ But if you are disengaged. Lady Alice 
would be greatly obliged by your playing for her.” 

“ Certainly,” cried Katherine. She had a sort of pleasure 
in obliging Errington, and Lady Alice for his sake; and put- 
ting her knitting into its little case, she rose and accompanied 
him to what was called the music-room, because it contained 
a grand piano and an old nearly stringless violin. 

“ I don’t think,” said De Burgh, looking after her, “ that 
your sister-in-law is quite as much under your influence as you 
fancy. ” 

“ Oh, don’t you?” cried Mrs. Ormonde, feeling a flash of 
dislike to Katherine thrill through her. It was terribly try- 
ing to find an admirer, of whom she was so proud, drawn from 
her by that “ tiresome, obstinate girl;” it was also enough to 
vex a saint to see her turn a deaf ear to her more experienced 
and highly placed sister’s suggestion. “ When you know a 
little more of her you will see how obstinate and headstrong 
she is.” 

“ Ah! troublesome qualities those, especially in a rich wom- 
an, and a handsome one to boot. There is something very 
taking about that sister-in-law of yours, Mrs. Ormonde. If I 


A CROOKED PATH. 183 

were Lady Alice I wouldn't trust Errington with her; she 
would be a dangerous rival. " 

44 Oh, nonsense! Do you think our Admirable Crichton 
could go wrong?" 

44 1 don't know. If he ever does, he'll go a tremendous 
cropper. " 

46 Well, Mr. De Burgh, if you would like to go in and win, 
you had better make the running now. Once she 4 cpmes out ' 
in town, you will find a host of competitors." 

44 Ha! I suppose you think a rugged fellow like me would 
have little or no chance with the curled darlings of Mayfair 
and South Kensington?" Mrs. Ormonde looked down on her 
fan, but did not speak. De Burgh laughed. 44 Who is going 
to bring her out?" he asked. 

44 1 am," with dignity. 

De Burgh’s reply was short and simple. He said, 44 Oh!" 
and the interjection (is there an interjection now? — I am not 
young enough to know) brought the color to Mrs. ‘Ormonde's 
cheek and a frown to her fair brow. 44 The young lady is, on 
the whole, original," he continued. 44 She does not care to be 
p resented. " 

44 Do you believe her? I don't. She only said so from love 
of contradicting." 

44 Yes, I believe her; she does not care about it now; but 
she will probably get the court fever after a plunge into Lon- 
don life. Who is singing? — that is something different from 
the penny whistling Lady Alice gives us!" 

44 Why, it must be Katherine! It is the first time she has 
sung since she came. She is always afraid of breaking down, 
she says. I don't believe she has sung since the death of her 
mother. " De Burgh's only reply was to walk into the next 
room. Leaving Mrs. Ormonde in a state of irritation against 
him, Katherine, and the world in general. 

Katherine was singing a gay Neapolitan air. She had a 
rich, sympathetic voice, and sung with arch expression. 

Errington stood beside her, and Lady Alice, the rector's 
wife and one or two other guests, were grouped round. 

44 Thank you. That is thoroughly Italian. You must have 
studied a good deal," said Errington, who rather liked music, 
and was accustomed to the best. 

44 Very nice, indeed," added Lady Alice. “Very nice," 
was her highest praise. 44 1 should like to learn the song." 

44 1 do not think it would suit you," observed Errington. 

44 Why, Katherine, I had no notion yon could 4 tune up ' in 
this way," cried Colonel Ormonde. 44 Give us another, like 


184 


A CKOOKED PATH. 


a good girl; something English — 4 Robin Adair. 5 There was 
a fellow in 4 ours ' used to sing it capitally.” 

44 I can not sing it. Colonel Ormonde. I am very sorry.” 

44 Oh, Katherine! 1 have heard you sing it a hundred times,” 
cried Mrs. Ormonde, joining them. 44 Why, it was a great 
favorite with poor, dear Mrs. Liddell.” 

46 1 can not sing it, Ada,” repeated Katherine, quick and 
low. As ^he spoke she caught Errington's eyes. 

44 Ko one ought to dictate to a songstress,” he said, very de- 
cidedly. 44 Give us anything you like, so long as you sing.” 

Kate bent her head, feeling that he understood her, and her 
hands wandered over the keys for a minute; then, with a 
glance at Colonel Ormonde, she began 44 Jock o' Hazeldean.” 

Katherine was not the kind of girl to nurse her grief, to 
dwell upon it with morbid insistence; but she remembered 
warmly, lovingly. At times gusts of passionate regret swept 
over her and shook her self-control, and she dared not attempt 
her mother's favorite song; the mere request for it called up 
a cloud of memories. She saw the dear face, the sweet, faded 
blue eyes that used to dwell upon her so tenderly, with such 
unutterable content. No other eyes would ever look upon her 
thus; never again could she hope for such perfect sympathy as 
she had once known. 

44 Does that make up for 4 Kobin Adair/ Colonel Ormonde?” 
she said when the song was ended. 

44 A very good song and very well sung, but it's not equal 
to 4 Robin Adair.' ” 

44 Lady Alice, will you try that duet of Helmer's?” asked 
Katherine, and Lady Alice graciously assented. 

44 1 shall miss your accompaniment dreadfully when I 
leave,” she said, when the duet was accomplished. 44 1 feel so 
sure when you play, and you help me. I hope you will come 
and see me. Lady Mary, my aunt, would be very pleased; 
don't you think she would?” to Errington, appealingly. 

44 Certainly. I hope. Miss Liddell, you will not desert 
Alice. If you will permit it. Lady Mary Vincent will have 
the pleasure of calling on you.” 

44 That will be very kind,” returned Katherine, softly. If 
this man were safely married and settled, she thought, she 
would like to be friends with his wife, and serve him in any 
\Vay she could. If his eyes did not always confuse and distress 
her, how much she could like him! 

As she rose from the piano, De Burgh, who had been speak- 
ing aside with Colonel Ormonde, left him to join her. 44 1 
have settled it all with Ormonde,” he said. 44 1 am to have 


A CROOKED PATH. 


185 


the pony-carriage and the dun ponies (not those Mrs. Ormonde 
generally drives) to-morrow; so, if it does not rain, IT1 give 
you your first lesson; that is, if you will allow me.” 

“You are very prompt,” returned Katherine, “and very 
good too to take so much trouble. If it is fine, then, to-mor- 
row. Pray arm yourself with patience. Are not the dun 
ponies rather frisky?” 

“ Spirited, but free from vice. Ormonde had them from 
my stables. It's no use learning to drive with dull, inanimate 
brutes. YouTl consider yourself engaged?” 

“ I do, if Mrs. Ormonde does not want me to go anywhere 
with her. ” 

“ She will not,” said De Burgh, confidently. 

“ Good-night,” returned Katherine. “ Tell Mrs. Ormonde 
I have stolen away, for I have a slight headache.” 

“What! going already?” cried De Burgh. “ No more 
songs? The evening, then, is over.” 

The following day was soft and bright. March had evi- 
dently made up his martial mind to go out in a lamb-like fash- 
ion, and De Burgh was unusually amiable and communicative. 
“ When shall you be ready to start?” he asked, following 
Katherine from the breakfast-table. 

“ To start where?” she asked. 

“ What! have you forgotten our plans of last night?” was 
his counter-question. “I am to give you your first lesson in 
driving this morning. I only wait your orders before going 
to see the ponies put in. We had better take advantage of the 
fine morning. ” 

“Ay, thaFs right, De Burgh; make hay while the sun 
shines,” said Ormonde, with his usual tact and jocularity. 
“ But it would be better to have tried a quieter pair than Dick 
and Dandie.” 

“ I think you may trust Miss Liddell to me,” returned De 
Burgh, impatiently. “ Well, when shall 1 bring round the 
trap?” 

“ Whenever you like. I am afraid you have set yourself a 
tiresome task.” 

De Burgh laughed. “ If you prove careless or disobedient, 
why, IT1 not repeat the dose. In half an hour, then, Fll 
have the carriage at the door.” 

That half hour was spent by Katherine in explaining to Ois 
and Charlie that she could not go out with them that day, for 
the morning was promised to De Burgh, and after luncheon 
she had undertaken to try over the song which had pleased her 


186 


A CROOKED PATH. 


with Lady Alice, who was to leave the next day. The little 
fellows thought themselves very ill used. But Miss Richards, 
who had greatly prized her deliverance from long muddy 
rambles since Katherine's advent, promised to take them to 
fish in a stream which ran between the Castleford and Melford 
properties. 

“ Do you suppose I shall dare to touch the reins of these 
terrible creatures?" said Katherine when De Burgh dashed up 
to the door, and held the spirited, impatient animals steady 
with some difficulty. 

“ We'll get rid of some of the steam first, and you will get 
accustomed to their playfulness," he returned. “Here, Or- 
monde, haven't you a rug for Miss Liddell? It may come on 
to rain." 

“ Yes; here you are;" and Colonel Ormonde, who was ex- 
amining the turnout, tucked up his fair guest carefully, and 
warned them to be back in good time, as he wanted De Burgh 
to ride over with him to see some horses which were for sale a 
mile or two at the other side of Monckton. 

“What a frightful pace!" said Katherine, after they had 
whirled out of the gates, yet feeling comforted by De Burgh's 
evident mastery of the ponies. 

“ You are not frightened? Don't you think I can manage 
them?" 

“ I am not comfortable, because I am not accustomed to 
horses and furious driving." 

“ Oh, they will settle down presently. Where shall we go — 
through Garston? It's a fine place. Perhaps you have seen 
it?" 

“ 1 have not, and I should like to see it very much." She 
was delighted with the suggestion. It would be a help to her, 
a consolation, to see so visible a token of Errington's wealth. 

“Curious fellow, Errington," resumed De Burgh. “I 
suppose he is about the only man who isn't spoiled by the 
most unbroken prosperity. Still, a fellow who never did any- 
thing wrong in his life is rather uninteresting; don't you think 
so?" 

“ Has he never done anything wrong? That seems rather 
incredible." 

“If he has, he has kept it deucedly close. But you are 
right; it is very incredible." 

They drove on for awhile in silence. It was a delicious 
morning — a blue sky flecked with fleecy white clouds, bright 
sunlight, birds singing, hedges budding, all nature welcoming 
the first sweet intoxication of renewed youth stirring in her 


A CROOKED PATH. 


187 


veins. Katherine loved the springtime, and felt its influence 
profoundly, but it was the first spring in which she had been 
alone; this time last year she — they — had been at Bordighera. 
How heavenly fair it had been! But De Burgh was speaking: 

“ You did not hear, or rather heed, what I said. Miss Lid- 
dell; that's not civil. ” 

“ Indeed it is not; forgive me. What did you say?” 

“I suppose you like country life best, as you demolished 
Mrs. Ormonde's scheme respecting a house in town so 
promptly?” 

“ I enjoy looking at the country, but I know nothing of 
country life. I am not sure I should like it. ” 

“ What's your objection to Drawing-rooms and balls — the 
season generally?” 

“ I do not object; but is my deep mourning suited to these 
gay e ties, Mr. De Burgh?” 

“ Well, no. I beg your pardon. Mrs. Ormonde started it, 
you know. I fancy it would take double-distilled mourning 
to keep her out of the swim.” 

“It is impossible for one nature to judge another which is 
totally different, fairly.” 

“ Very true and very prudent. I have not got to the bot- 
tom of your character yet, but I am pursuing my studies,” 
said De Burgh, with a grim sort of smile. “You see they are 
settling down to their work now,” pointing his whip to the 
ponies. “ I'll give you the reins in a minute or two.” 

“ I think 1 ought to begin with something quieter,” said 
Katherine, looking at them uneasily. 

De Burgh laughed. “ There is a nice stretch of level road 
before us — nothing to interfere with you. Change places with 
me, if you please. Here, put the reins between your fingers 
— so; now a turn of the wrist guides them. I'll hold your 
hand for a bit. You had better not let the whip touch them 
— so. There you are. I'Jl show you how to handle the rib- 
bons before you are a fortnight older; that is, if you will come 
out every day with me.” 

“ Would you take that trouble?'' exclaimed Katherine. 

“ I can take a good deal of trouble if I like my work. Now 
hold them steady, and keep your eye on them. When we come 
to the trees, on there, turn to the left.” 

“ So far there doesn't seem to be much difficulty; they seem 
to go all right of their own accord,” she said, after a few 
minutes. 

“ They are a capital pair; but there is nothing to disturb 
them.” 


188 


A CROOKED PATH. 


For the rest of the way to Garston, De Burgh only spoke to 
give the lesson he hacl undertaken, and Katherine found her- 
self growing interested and pleased. When they entered the 
gates, however, she asked him to take the reins. She wanted 
to look about her, to remark the surroundings of Errington's 
house. 

It was a fine place, somewhat flat, perhaps, but beautiful 
with splendid trees, and a small lake, through which ran the 
stream in another part of which Cis and Charlie were going 
to fish. The house stood well, the grounds were admirably 
laid out and perfectly kept; evidences of wealth were on all 
sides. 

44 I suppose it costs a great deal of money to keep up a place 
like this/' said Katherine, breaking a silence which had lasted 
some minutes; De Burgh never troubled himself to speak un- 
less he really had something to say. 

44 I shouldn't care to live here on less than ten thousand a 
year," he returned, glancing round. 

4 4 And has Mr. Errington all that money?" 

44 His father has a good deal more. He bought this place 
for him, 1 believe. Old Errington is very wealthy, and on his 
last legs, from what I hear." 

44 Ten thousand a year! What a quantity of money!" 

44 Hem! I think I could get through it without much 
trouble." 

44 Then you have always been rich?" 

44 Rich! I have been on the verge of bankruptcy all my 
life. I never knew what it was to have enough money. " 

44 But you seem to have gone everywhere and done every- 
thing." 

44 Yes, by discounting my future at a ruinous rate," he re- 
turned, with a sort of reckless candor that amused his hearer. 
44 You scarcely understand me, I suppose?" 

44 1 think I do. 1 know how uncomfortable it is to want 
money." 

44 Indeed! Still, it's not so hard on women as on men." 

44 Why?" 

44 We want so much more." 

44 Then you have so many more chances of earning it." 

44 Earning it! Oh, that is a new view of the case!" 

44 1 should not mind doing it; that is, if I could succeed." 

44 Do you know, I took you for your nephews' governess. 
It never crossed my mind you were an heiress. As a rule, 
heiresses are revolting to the last degree." 

44 1 feel the compliment." 


A CROOKED PATH. 


189 


41 Remember, I like their money, only 1 object to its being 
encumbered. ** 

44 You are wonderfully frank, Mr. De Burgh. ** 

44 1 dare say you said 4 brutally frank 9 in your thoughts. 
Miss Liddell, and you are right. I am rather a bad lot, and a . 
little too old to mend. But let it be a saving clause in your 
mind, if I ever recur to it, that the fact of your being nice 
enough for the governess impelled me to offer driving lessons 
to the heiress. Will you take the reins? You might hold 
them forever if you choose.** 

44 Not yet, thank you; when we get out on the road again,** 
returned Katherine, not seeing or seeming to see his covert 
meaning. 44 You are surely not a democrat?** 

44 A democrat? No. I have no particular view as regards 
politics; but if the devil ever got so completely the upper hand 
in this world as to leave it without a class to serve and obey 
us, their natural superiors, I*d decline to stay here any longer, 
and descend by the help of a bullet to lower regions, where I 
should have better society. ** 

44 More congenial society, I am sure,** said Katherine, laugh- 
ing, though revolted by his tone. She felt it would never do 
to show she was. 44 You are quite different from any one I 
ever met. Do you know, you give me the idea of a wicked 
Norman baron in the Middle Ages.** 

De Burgh laughed, as if he rather enjoyed the observation. 

44 1 know,** he said; 44 a regular melodramatic villain, 4 away 
with him to the lowest dungeon beneath the castle moat * sort 
of fellow, who would draw a Jew*s teeth before breakfast and 
roast a restive burgher after. I wonder, considering you 
possess the two strongest attractions for men of this description 
— money and (may I say it?) beauty — that you trust yourself 
with me.** 

44 Ah! you concealed your vile opinions successfully; so you 
see I could not know my danger,** returned Katherine, laugh- 
ing. 44 You are not at all a modern man.** 

44 1 accept the compliment.** 

44 Which I did not intend for one. When we get through 
the gates 1 will take the reins again. ** 

44 Certainly; but the ponies* heads will be turned homeward, 
and 1 am afraid they will pull. They have steadied down 
wonderfully. ** The rest of the drive was spent in careful in- 
struction, and Katherine was surprised to find how quickly 
the time had gone when they reached the house. 

De Burgh interested her in spite of her dislike of the opinions 
and sentiments he expressed. There was something pict- 


190 


A CROOKED PATH. 


uresque about the man, and she felt that he was attracted to 
her in a curious and almost alarming manner. Yet she was 
conscious of an inclination to play with fire. It was some 
time since she felt so light-hearted. The sight of Errington’s 
luxurious surroundings seemed to take something from the 
load upon her conscience, and this sense of partial relief gave 
brilliancy to her eyes, as the fresh balmy air gave her some- 
thing of her former rich coloring. 

“ By Jove!” cried Colonel Ormonde, as Katherine took her 
place at luncheon, “your drive has agreed with you. Fve 
never seen you look so well. You must pursue the treatment. 
How did she get on, De Burgh?” 

“ Not so badly. But Miss Liddell is more timid than I ex- 
pected. She’ll get accustomed to the look of the cattle in a 
little while. Courage is largely made up of habit. IT1 take 
some of that cold lamb, Ormonde.” And De Burgh spoke no 
more till he had finished his luncheon. 

“ Do you know; Miss Liddell, that my father was an old 
friend of your uncle’s?” said Errington that evening, as he 
jfiaced himself beside her on a retired sofa, while Miss Brereton 
was executing some gymnastics on the piano. “ I have just 
been talking to Ormonde about him. I remember having 
been sent to call upon him — long ago, when I was at college, 
1 think. He lived in some wild northland; I remember it was 
a great way off. Then my father went for a trip to Calcutta, 
and 1 fancy I lost sight of his old chum. ” 

Katherine grew red and white as he spoke; she could only 
murmur, “ Yes, 1 was told they had been friends.” 

“ Then you must accept me as a hereditary friend,” said 
Errington, kindly. “ I shall tell my father that I have made 
your acquaintance, though he does not take much interest in 
anything now, I am sorry to say. ” 

“ 1 am sorry — ” faltered Katherine. 

“ Both Lady Alice and I hope to have the pleasure of seeing 
you in town,” continued Errington, having waited in vain for 
her to finish her sentence. “ I am going to see her safely in 
her aunt’s charge to-morrow, and shall not return, I fancy, 
till you have left.” 

“ You are both very good. I shall be most happy to see you 
again,” returned Katherine, mastering her forces, though she 
felt ready to fly and hide her guilty head in any corner. Er- 
rington felt that she was unusually uneasy and uncomfortable 
with him, so made way the more readily for De Burgh, who 
monopolized her for the rest of the evening. 

The next day was wet, and for a week the weather was un- 


A CROOKED PATH. 


191 


settled, so that Katherine had only one more lesson in driving 
before the party broke up, and De Burgh too was obliged to 
leave. 

But Katherine prolonged her stay. Charlie, in his ardor for 
fishing, had slipped into the river and caught a severe, feverish 
cold. 

The way in which he clung to his auntie, the evident com- 
fort he derived from her presence, the delight he had in hold- 
ing her cool soft hand in his own little burning fingers, made 
it impossible for her to leave him. By the time he was able 
to sit up and play with his brother, poor Charlie was a pallid 
little skeleton, and his auntie bade him a tender adieu, deter- 
mined to lose no time in finding sea-side quarters for the pre- 
cious invalid. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

TAKING COUNSEL. 

Miss Payne was busy looking over several cards which lay 
in a small china dish on her work-table. It was early in the 
forenoon, and she still wore a simple muslin cap and a morn- 
ing-gown of gray cashmere. Her mouth looked very rigid 
and her eyes gloomy. To her enters her brother, fresh and 
bright, a smile on his lips and a flower in his button-hole. 

Miss Payne vouchsafed no greeting. Looking at him stern- 
ly, she asked, 4 4 Well! what do you want?” 

44 To ask at what hour Miss Liddell arrives, and if I am to 
meet her at the station. ** 

44 She is not coming to-day,” snapped Miss Payne; 44 she is 
not coming till Saturday.” 

44 Indeed!” In a changed tone, 44 1 hope she is all right?” 

44 It's hard to answer that. It seems one of the nephews 
has had a feverish cold, and she did not like to leave him. I 
do not feel sure there is not some real reason under this, for 
she adds that she is anxious to see and consult me about some 
matter she has much at heart. Perhaps there is a man at the 
bottom of it . 99 

“ I hope not,” said Bertie, quietly, 44 unless she has found 
some former friend at Castleford. I do not think Miss Liddell 
is the sort of girl to accept a man on five or six weeks* ac- 
quaintance, and she has scarcely been at Castleford so long.** 

4 4 It is impossible to fathom the folly of women when a lover 
is in the case.** 

fc4 You are hard, Hannah.** 


192 


A CROOKED PATH. 


44 I do not care whether I am or not. I don’t want to lose 
Miss Liddell before the time agreed for.” 

44 No doubt she is a profitable — ” 

44 It is no question of profit,” interrupted Miss Payne, grim- 
ly. 44 Whether she goes or whether she stays she is bound to 
me financially for twelve months. But I am interested in 
Katherine, and it will be far better for her to stay on here and 
feel her way before she launches into the whirl of what they 
call society. I want to save her for awhile from the wild rush 
of dressing, driving, dining, dancing, that has swept away all 
my girls sooner or later. Look here: the mothers are flocking 
around her already.” She began to take the cards out of the 
dish and read the names: 44 Lady Mary Vincent, 23 Walde- 
grave Crescent; she is a sister of that Lord Melford who ran 
such a rig years ago. Her boys are still at Eton. I suppose 
she' comes because her niece and Miss Liddell have struck up a 
friendship at Castleford. Then here are Mrs. and Miss Alford; 
we all knew them in Borne; there’s a son there ; they are re- 
spectable people, well off, and fighting their way uj) judicious- 
ly enough. Lady Barrington; she . has a nephew, but she will 
be useful. Mr. and Mrs. Tracey; they were at Florence, and 
have a couple of daughters; there may be a nephew or a 
cousin, but I never heard of one; they are pleas&nt, sensible, 
artistic people, who just enjoy themselves and don’t trouble. 
Lady Mildred Beptan, Miss Brereton, John de Burgh; I don’t 
know these. All these people evidently think she is in town, 
or have only just come themselves, but you see the outlook.” 

4 4 John de Burgh,” repeated Bertie, thoughtfully. “I re- 
member something about him; nothing particularly good. I 
believe he is on the turf. Yes, he is a famous steeple-chase 
rider, and rather fast — not too desirable a follower for Miss 
Liddell.” 

44 She met him at Castleford, and I rather think he is relat- 
ed to Colonel Ormonde.” Miss Payne put back the cards in 
the dish as she spoke, and remained silent for some instants. 

44 You will be glad when Miss Liddell returns,” said Bertie. 

44 So will you,” she returned, tartly. 44 But 1 hope you 
won’t dip into her purse so freely as you used for your re- 
formed drunkards and ragged orphans. It was too bad.” 

44 Miss Liddell never waits to be asked. She seems on the 
lookout for cases on which to bestow money. As she has 
plenty, why should I hesitate to accept it?” 

Miss Payne slowly rubbed her nose with the handle of a 
small hook she used for pulling out the loops of her tatting. 
44 Katherine Liddell is an uncommon sort of girl,” she said. 


A CROOKED PATH. 


193 


“ but I like her. I have an idea that she likes me better than 
any of the others did, yet there are not many things on which 
we agree. She is a little flighty in some ways, but she has 
some sense too, some notion of the value of money; she does 
not lose her head about dress, nor does she buy costly bawbles 
at the jewelers*. She certainly wastes a good many pounds 
on books, when a three-guinea subscription to Mudie’s would 
answer the purpose quite as well. Then she is honestly deeply 
grieved at the loss of her mother, but she does not parade it, 
or nurse it either, and I think she has some opinion of my 
judgment. Still, she is a little unsettled, and not quite 
happy. ** 

I think she deserves to be happy/* observed Bertie, with 
an air of conviction — “ if any erring mortal can deserve any- 
thing. ** 

“ We seldom get our deserts, either way, here ; indeed, this 
world is so upside-down I am inclined to believe there must be 
another to put it straight.** 

“We have fortunately better proof than that/* returned 
her brother, gravely. 

“ I must say I feel very curious to know what Katherine *s 
plan js; I am terribly afraid there is a man in it.** 

“ Nothing more probable;** and Bertie fell into a fit of 
thought. “ You know Mrs. Needham?** lie asked, suddenly. 

“ Well, I just know her.** 

“ She is a most earnest, energetic woman, though we are 
not quite of one mind on all subjects. She wants to secure 
Miss Liddell’s assistance in getting up a bazaar for the Stray 
Children’s Home. I shall bring her to call on you.** 

“ Don*t!** very emphatically. “ I know more than enough 
jieople already, and I don*t want any well-dressed beggars 
added to the number.** 

“ Well, I will not interfere; but that is of little consequence. 
If Mrs. Needham wants to come, she’ll come.** 

“ I hate these fussy subscription-hunting women!** cried 
Miss Payne. 

“ She does not hunt for subscriptions, nor does she take any 
special interest in religious matters, but she approves of this 
particular charity. She is an immensely busy woman, and 
writes in I don’t know how many newspapers.” 

“ Newspapers! And are our opinions made up for us by 
rambling hussies of that description?” 

Bertie burst out laughing. “ If Mrs. Needham heard you!” 
he exclaimed. “ She considers herself 6 the glass of fashion 


194 


A CROOKED TATH. 


and the mold of form/ the most successful and important 
woman in the world— the English world.” 

Miss Payne's only reply was a contemptuous upward toss of 
the head. “ If you will be at Euston Square on Saturday to 
meet the five-fifty train from Monckton,” she resumed, “ I 
should be obliged to you — Miss Liddell travels alone — and you 
can dine with us if you like after, unless you are going to 
preach the gospel somewhere. ” 

“ Thank you. Why do you object to my preaching?” 

“ Because I like things done decently and in order. You 
are not ordained, and there are plenty of churches and chapels, 
God knows, for people to go to, if they would wash their faces 
and be decent. Now I can’t stay here any longer, so good- 
bye for the present.” She took up a little basket containing 
an old pair of gloves, large scissors, and a ball of twine, and 
walked briskly away to attend to the plants in her diminutive 
conservatory. 

De Burgh did not prolong his absence; he returned to Cas- 
tleford while Katherine was still in attendance on the little in- 
valid; but he found his stay neither pleasant nor profitable. 
Katherine was far too much occupied nursing her nephew to 
give any time or attention to her impatient admirer. 

i 4 Miss Liddell is a peculiar specimen of her sex,” he 
growled, in his usual candid and unaffected manner, as he and 
Colonel Ormonde sat alone over their wine. “ She never 
leaves those brats. She must know that it’s not every girl / 
should take the trouble of teaching, and yet she throws over 
each appointment I make. Does she intend to adopt your 
wife’s boys? Adopted sons are an appendage no man would 
like to accept with a bride, be she ever so well endowed.” 

“Oh, she will forget them as soon as she falls in love! You 
must carry on the siege more vigorously. ” 

“ How the deuce are you to do it when you never get within 
hail of the fortress? There is something peculiar about Kath- 
erine Liddell I can’t quite make out. If she were a common- 
place woman, angular, squinting, or generally plain, I could 
go in and win and collar the cash without hesitation, but some- 
how or other I can’t go into the affair in this spirit. I want 
the woman as well as the money.” 

“ Well, I see no reason why you shouldn’t have both. Your 
faintness of heart never lost yon any fair lady, I am sure. 
Jack.” 

“Perhaps not.” And he smoked meditatively for a min- 
ute or two. 

“ Then you will not leave us to-morrow?” said Ormonde. 


A CROOKED PATH. 


195 


44 When does she go up to town?” asked De Burgh. 

44 On Monday, I believe.” 

44 Then I’ll run up the day after to-morrow. Old De Burgh 
has just come back from the Riviera. Til go and do the 
dutiful, and tell him 1 have found a suitable partner for my 
joys and sorrows; it will score to my credit. He doesn’t half 
like me, you know. Then 1T1 have a dozen better chances to 
cultivate Miss Liddell in town, and away from your nursery, 
than I have here. Give me her address. She is a frank, un- 
conventional creature, and won’t mind coming out with me 
alone. ” 

44 Vary true. Mrs. Ormonde has persuaded me to take her 
to town for a couple of months; so weTl be there to back 
you up.” 

<4 Good! Meanwhile I will do my best for my own hand. 
If she starts on Monday, I’ll pay my respects to the peerless 
one by the time she has swallowed her luncheon on Tuesday,” 
said De Burgh, with a harsh laugh. 

Thus it came to pass that De Burgh’s card was among those 
preserved for Katherine’s inspection; but she postponed her 
departure first to Wednesday, next to Saturday, and De Burgh 
grew savagely impatient when Colonel Ormonde informed him 
of these changes in a private note. 

When at last she did arrive. Miss Payne was struck by the 
look of renewed hope and cheerfulness in her young friend’s 
face. Her movements even were more alert, and her voice 
had lost its languid tone. 

44 1 thought you would find it difficult to get away,” said 
Miss Payne, as she assisted her to remove her traveling-dress. 
46 But I am very pleased to see you again, and to see you look- 
ing more like yourself.” 

64 1 feel more like my old self,” returned Katherine, actually 
kissing Miss Payne — a kind of treatment exceedingly new to 
her. 44 In fact, I am full of a project which will, I hope, 
make me much happier. I will tell you all about it after din- 
ner, if we are alone. Your advice will be of great value to 
me.” 

44 Such as it is, I shall be glad to give it; though I do not 
suppose you’ll take it unless it suits your wishes.” 

44 Perhaps not,” said Katherine, laughing; 44 but I think 
it will.” 

44 She is going to marry some fortune-hunting scamp,” 
thought Miss Payne. 44 1 was afraid no good would come of 
her visit to that little dressy dolly sister-in-law of hers.” She 


196 


• A CROOKED PATH. 


only said, “ Dinner will be ready in half an hour, and we 
shall be quite alone. ” 

Then she went quickly down-stairs to her brother, who was 
gazing out of the window, but not seeing what he looked at. 

“You can’t dine here to-day, Bertie,” said Miss Payne, 
abruptly, as she entered the room. 

“ And why not?” 

“ Because she wants to have some confidential conversation 
with me after dinner, and we must be alone. ” 

“ Have you any idea what it will be about?” 

“ No; and I am astonished at your putting the question. 
You may come in after church to-morrow if you like.” 

“ Thank you. I shall be rather late, as I am going to an 
open-air service beyond Whitechapel.” 

“ Well, I do hope you’ll get something to eat after. Are 
yon going to preach?” 

“ No. I seldom preach. I haven’t the gift of eloquence. ” 

“ Which means you have a little common sense left. Eeally, 
Gilbert, for a man of thirty -five, or nearly thirty-five, you are 
too credulous. ” 

“ It is my nature to be so,” he returned, laughing. “ Well, 
good-bye to you. It is really unkind to turn me out in this 
unceremonious fashion.” So saying, with his usual sweet- 
tempered compliance he departed. 

“ What a good boy he is!” said Miss Payne to herself, look- 
ing at the grate, while by a dual brain action she made a brief 
calculation as to how much longer she must burn coal. “ He 
ought to have been a girl. Why don’t rich young women see 
that he is the very stud to make a pleasant husband, instead 
of those monsters of strength and determination that fools of 
women make gods of, and themselves door mats for, and often 
find to be only big pumpkins after all?” 

Miss Payne’s anticipations were of the gloomiest when, after 
their quickly dispatched dinner, she settled herself between the 
fire and the window with her favorite tatting, drawing up the 
knots with vicious energy. She opened proceedings by an in- 
terrogative “ Well?” and closed her tnouth with a snap. 

“Well, my dear Miss Payne,” began Katherine, who had 
settled herself comfortably in a corner of the sofa, “ I have an 
important plan in my mind, and I want your co-operation. I 
should have written to you about it, only I waited to get 
Colonel Ormonde’s consent.” 

“ It’s a man!” ejaculated Miss Payne to herself. 

“ To begin: I was not at all satisfied with the boys when I 
first went to Castleford. They were not exactly neglected. 


A CROOKED TATII. 


197 


but they were quite secluded. Mrs. Ormonde scarcely saw 
them, and their governess or attendant was not at all lady-like; 
she speaks with a London accent and misplaces her ft’ s; alto- 
gether she is not the sort of person 1 Should have placed with 
the boys. Then the poor little fellows clung to me and 
monopolized me as if 1 had been their mother; they made me 
feel like one. Moreover, I seemed to see my own dear mother 
and hear her voice when they spoke to me. She loved them 
so much!” 

Katherine paused suddenly, but almost immediately re- 
sumed: “ The youngest, Charlie, is not yet seven, and is very 
delicate. He has had rather a sharp attack of bronchitis. I 
am very anxious about him. Now I want to take them to 
the sea-side next month, and to keep them there all the sum- 
mer, and I want your help to find a nice place. I know noth- 
ing of the English coast. More than this: I feel I could not 
get on without you, so you must come with us. Suppose, 
dear Miss Payne, we take a house with a garden near the sea, 
and you let this one? I will gladly pay all extra cost, while 
our original agreement, as far as I myself am concerned, shall 
hold good.” 

Miss Payne listened attentively to this long speech, the ex- 
pression of ter countenance relaxing; but she did not reply at 
once. 

“ I think,” she said, after a moment’s thought, “ that you 
are exceedingly liberal, but I am not sure you are wise. As 
far as I am concerned, I should like your plan very much. I 
do not profess to be fond of children, but I dare say these lit- 
tle boys would not interfere with me. As regards yourself, if 
you keep the children for the whole summer, it is possible Mrs. 
Ormonde might be inclined to leave them with you altogether, 
an^i this would create a burden for you — a burden you are by 
no means called upon to bear. It is a dangerous experiment.” 

“ Not to me,” returned Katherine, thoughtfully. “ In fact 
it is a consummation for which I devoutly wish. 1 should like 
to adopt my nephews. ” 

“ That would certainly be foolish. It would not be kind to 
the children, Katherine (as you wish me to call } r ou). In the 
course of a year or two you will marry, and then the creatures 
who had learned to love you and look on you as a mother 
would be again motherless. Do not take them from their 
natural guardian.” 

“ What you say is very reasonable. Yon can not know how. 
certain I feel that I shall not marry. However, let us leave 
all that to arrange itself in the future; let us think of the 


198 


A CROOKED PATH. 


present. Colonel and Mrs. Ormonde are coming up to town, 
for two or three months, in May, and I do not like the idea of 
Cis and Charlie being left behind; so will you help me, my 
dear Miss Payne? Shall you mind a spring and summer in 
some quiet sea-side place?” 

Again Miss Payne reflected before she spoke. “ I should 
rather like it; and your idea of letting this house is a good 
one. Yes, I shall be happy to assist you as far as I can. The 
first question is, where shall we go?” 

“ That, I am sure, you know best.” 

An interesting disquisition ensued. Miss Payne rejected 
Bournemouth, Weymouth, Worthing, Brighton, and Folke- 
stone, for what seemed to Katherine sufficient reasons, and 
finally recommended Sandbourne, a quiet and little - known 
nook on the Dorsetshire coast, as being mild but not relaxing, 
not too near nor too far from town, and possessing fine sands, 
while the country round was less bare and flat than what 
usually lies near the coast. 

Finally the “ friends in council ” decided to go down and 
look at the place. 6 4 For,” observed Miss Payne, “ if we are 
to go away the beginning of next month, we have little more 
than a fortnight before us.” 

“ By all means,” cried Katherine, starting up. “ Let us 
go to-morrow; we might ‘ do * the place in a day, and come 
back the next. You are really a dear, to fall into my views so 
readily.” 

“ To-morrow? Oh! that’s a little too fast: the day after, 
if you like. Now I wish you would look at these cards; they 
have all been left for you in the last few days.” 

Katherine took and. looked over them with some running 
comments. “ Mrs. Tracey! I shall be quite glad to see them 
again: they were always so kind and pleasant. Lady M#ty 
Vincent! I did not think she would call so soon; I think I 
must go and see her to-morrow. I rather like her niece. Lady 
Alice Mordaunt; she is a nice, gentle girl. She is to be mar- 
ried very soon to a man who interested me a good deal; such 
a thoughtful, clever man, but rather provokingly composed 
and perfect — a sort of person who never makes a mistake.” 

“ He must be a remarkable person,” said Miss Payne. 

“ He will soon be in Parliament, and has some of the quali- 
ties which make a statesman, I imagine. I shall watch his 
progress.” Here Katherine took up a card, and while she 
read the inscription, “ John Fitzstephen de Burgh,” a slight 
smile crept round her lips. “ I had no idea he was in town. 


Y~ 


A CROOKED PATH. 199 

or that he would take the trouble of calling on me so soon,. I 
thought he was too utterly offended.” 

“ Why?” asked Miss Payne, looking at her curiously. 

“ He is rather ill-tempered, I fancy, and he was vexed be- 
cause I preferred staying with Charlie to going out with him; 
he offered to teach me how to drive; so I believe, like the rich 
young man in the Gospel, he went away in desperation.” 

“ Hum! Is he a rich young man?” 

He is not young, and 1 am not sure about his being rich. 
He has a hunting-lodge and horses, yet I doiPt fancy he is 
rich. He is a sort of relation of the Ormondes.” 

I suspect he is a spendthrift, and would like your money.” 

Oh, very likely; but, my dear Miss Payne, you need not 
warn me; I am quite sufficiently inclined to believe that the 
men who show me attention are thinking more of what I have 
than what 1 am. Believe me, it is not an agreeable frame of 
mind. Mr. De Burgh is a strange sort of character. He 
amuses me; he is not a bit like a modern man. He doesiPt 
seem to think it worth while to conceal what he feels or thinks. 
There is an odd well-bred roughness about him, if I may use 
such an expression; but I greatly prefer him to Colonel Or- 
monde.” 

“ Oh, you do? Colonel Ormode is just an average #tan,” 
added Miss Payne. 

“ I should hope the general average is higher; but I must 
not be ill-natured. He has always been very kind to me.” 

This was a pleasant interlude to Katherine, she had succeed- 
ed in hushing her heart to rest for awhile, in banishing the 
thoughts which had long tormented her. Nothing had com- 
forted and satisfied her as did this project of adopting her 
nephews. It is true she had not yet announced it, but in her 
own mind she resolved that once they were under her wing, 
she would not let them go again, unless indeed something 
quite unforeseen occurred; nor did she anticipate any difficul- 
ties with their mother. She would thus secure a natural legiti- 
mate interest in life, and make a home, which to a girl of her 
disposition was essential. Yet she knew well that in renounc- 
ing the idea of marriage she was denying one of the strongest 
necessities of her nature. The love and companionship of a 
man in whom she believed, for whom she could be ambitious, 
who would link her with the life and movement of the outer 
world, who would be the complement of her own being, was a 
dream of delight. Not that she felt in the least unable to 
stand alone, or fancied she was too delicate to take care of her- 
self, but life without the love of another self could never be 


200 


A CROOKED PATH. 





r - ~ z ■ 


full and perfect. She was too true a woman not to value 
deeply the tenderness of a man; yet she had firmly resolved in 
justice to herself, in fairness to any possible husband, to re- 
nounce that crown of woman’s existence. It was the only 
atonement she could make. Well, at least her loving care of 
those dear little boys, who were in point of fact motherless, 
would in some degree expiate her evil deed, and would keep 
her heart warm and her mind healthy. 

Possessed of the true magic, “money,” obstacles faded 
away. The expedition to Sandbourne was most successful. 
Katherine was brighter than Miss Payne had ever seen her be- 
fore. The day was sunny, the little place looked cheerful and 
picturesque. It lay under a wooded hill, ending in a bold 
rocky point, which sheltered it and a wide bay from the easter- 
ly winds. A splendid stretch of golden sand£ olfered a play- 
ground for the racing waves, and an old tower crowned an islet 
near the opposite point of the land, which there lay low, 
and was covered with gorse and heather. 

There was an objectionable row of lodging-houses, against 
which must be entered a low red-brick ivy-grown inn, old- 
fashioned, picturesque, and comfortable. One or two villas 
stood in their own grounds, but were occupied, and one, evi- 
dently the older, was shut up. 

Perhaps because it was inaccessible, perhaps because it had 
a pleasant outlook across the bay to the island and tower at its 
western extremity, Katherine at once determined it was the 
very place to suit them, and made her way to the local house 
agent to see what could be done toward securing it. Cliff 
Cottage was not on his books, said the agent; but if the lady 
wished “ he would apply to the owner, who had gone with his 
wife in search of health to the Riviera. In the meantime 
there is Amanda Villa, at the pther end of Beach Terrace, very 
comfortable and elegantly furnished ’ ’ — pointing to a glaring 
white edifice with a Belvedere tower in would-be Italian style. 
“I don’t think you could find anything better.” But the 
aspect of Amanda Villa did not please either lady, so they re- 
turned to Cliff Cottage; and remarking a thin curl of blue 
smoke from one of the chimneys, they ventured to make their 
way to a side entrance, where their knocking was answered by 
an old deaf care-taker, who for a consideration permitted them 
to inspect the house. It proved to be all Katherine wished. 
Though the furniture was scanty and worn, it was clean and 
well-kept, and “ We can easily get what is necessary,” she 


A CROOKED PATH. 201 

concluded, with the sense of power which always goes with a 
full purse. 

“ Let us go back to the agent and get the address of the 
owner.” 

“ Better make your offer through him,” returned Miss 
Payne, and Katherine complied. 

The days which succeeded seemed very long. Katherine 
had taken • a fancy to the quaint, pretty abode, and was im- 
patient to be settled there with her boys. There was a 
“ preparatory school for young gentlemen,” which was an 
additional attraction to Sandbourne, both children being ex- 
tremely ignorant even for their tender years; and Katherine 
was greatly opposed to Colonel Ormonde's intention of sending 
Cecil away to a boarding-school. She wished him to have 
some preliminary training before he was plunged into the diffi- 
culties of a large boarding-school. To Colonel Ormonde her 
\till was law, and if only she could get the house sh>e wanted, 
all would go well. 

Of course Katherine lost no time in visiting her protegee 
Rachel. She had written to her during her absence to let her 
feel that she was not forgotten; and the replies were not only 
well written and expressed, but showed a degree of intelligence 
above the average. 

When Katherine entered the room where Rachel sat at work 
she was touched and delighted at the sudden brightening of 
EaehePs sunken eyes, the joyous flush that rose to her cheek. 

“ Oh!” she exclaimed, “ I did not expect you so soon. 
How good of you to come!” She placed a chair, and in 
reply to Katherine^s friendly question, “ How have you been 
going on?” Rachel gave an encouraging account of herself. 
Mrs. Needham had introduced her to two families, both of 
whom wished her to work in the house, which, though infinite- 
ly disagreeable to her, she did not like to refuse. * 

“ Perhaps,” she added, 64 the counter-irritation was good 
for me, for I feel more braced up. And of all your many 
benefits, dear Miss Liddell, nothing has done me so much good 
as the books you sent me, except the sight of yourself. Do 
not think I am exaggerating, but 1 am a mere machine, re- 
signed to work because I must not die, save when I see you 
and speak to you; then I feel I can live — that I have some- 
thing to live for, to show I am not unworthy of your trust in 
me. Perhaps time will heal even such wounds as mine. Is it 
not terrible to try and live without hope?” 

“ But you must hope, Rachel. You are not alone. I feel 
truly, deeply interested in you; believe me, I will always be 


202 


A CROOKED PATH. 


your friend. You are looking better, but I want to see your 
eyes less hollow and your mouth less sad. We are both young, 
and life has many lights and shades for us both, so far as we 
can anticipate. '' 

A long and confidential conversation ensued, in the course 
of which Katherine quite forgot there was any difference of 
position between herself and the humble dress-maker whom 
her bounty of purse and heart had restored. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

“IRS. NEEDHAM. 99 

Whek Katherine returned that afternoon she found Miss 
Payne was not alone. On the sofa opposite to her sat a lady 
— a large, well-dressed lady — with bright, black, eager eyes 
and a high color. She held open on her lap a neat black 
leather bqg, from which she had taken some papers, and w&s 
speaking quickly, in loud, dictatorial tones, when Katherine 
came in. 

“ Here is Miss Liddell,” said Miss Payne. 

“ Ah! I am very glad,” cried the large lady, starting up 
and letting the bag fall, much of its contents scattering right 
and left. 

“ Mrs. Needham, Miss Liddell,” said Miss Payne, with the 
sort of rigid accent which Katherine knew expressed disappro- 
bation. 

“ Oh, thank you; don't trouble!” exclaimed Mrs. Needham, 
as Katherine politely bent down to collect the letters, note- 
book, memorandum, etc. 64 So sorry! I am too careless in 
small matters. Now, my dear Miss Liddell, 1 must explain 
myself. Mr. Payne and I are deeply interested in the success 
of a bazaar which I am trying to organize, and he suggested 
that I should see you and make our objects thoroughly clear.” 

With much fluency and distinctness she proceeded to describe 
the origin and progress of the work she advocated, showing 
the necessity for a new wing to the “ Children's Refuge,” and 
entreating Katherine's assistance at the bazaar. 

This Katherine gently but firmly declined. “ I shall be 
most happy to send you a check, but more 1 can not under- 
take, " she said. 

“ Well, that is very good of you; and in any case I am very 
pleased to have made your acquaintance. Mr. Payne has told 
me how ready you are to help in all charitable undertakings. 
Nowin an ordinary way 1 don't do much in this line; my ener- 
gies have been directed to another channel. I am not what is 


A CROOKED PATH. 


203 


generaljy called a religious woman; 1 am too broad in my 
views to please the orthodox; but at the same time religion is 
in our present stage essential.” 

“ 1 am sure religion is much obliged to you,” observed Miss 
Payne. “ How do you and my brother get on?” 

“ Kemarkably well. I think him rather a fanatic; he 
thinks me a pagan. But we both have common sense enough 
to see that each honestly wishes to help suffering humanity, 
and on that broad platform we meet. Mr. Payne tells me you 
don’t know much of London, Miss Liddell. I can help you to 
see some of its more interesting sides. I shall be most happy, 
though 1 am a very busy woman. I am a journalist, and my 
time is not my own/’ 

64 Indeed?” cried Katherine. “ You mean you write for 
newspapers?” 

44 Yes; that is, I get what crumbs fall from the press men’s 
table. They get the best work and the best pay; but I can 
work as well as most of them, and sometimes mine goes in in 
place of what some idle, pleasure-loving scamp has neglected. 
Let me see ” — pulling out her watch — 44 five minutes to four. 
I must not stay. I have to look in at Mrs. Kayner’s studio; 
she has a reception, and will want a mention of it. Then 
there are Sir Charles Goodman’s training schools for deaf- 
mutes and the new Art Photography Company’s rooms to run 
through before I go to the House of Commons to do my 
4 Bird’s-eye- View ’ letter for the Australian mail to-morrow.” 

44 My dear Mrs. Needham, you take my breath away!” ex- 
claimed Katherine. “ I am sure you could show me more of 
London — I mean what I should like to see — than any one 
else. ’ ’ 

44 Very well. Let me know when you come back to town, 
and you shall hear a debate if you like. I am not a society 
woman, but I have the entree to most places. Now good- 
morning — good-morning. You see your agreeable conversa- 
tion has made me forget the time.” And shaking hands 
cordially, she hastened away. 

44 Our agreeable conversation,” repeated Miss Payne, with a 
somewhat cynical accent. 64 1 wonder how many words you 
and I uttered. Why, she makes me stupid. Eeally Gilbert 
ought not to inflict such a tornado on us.” 

44 1 like her,” said Katherine; 44 there is something kind and 
true about her. I should like to see some of the places she 
goes to and the work she does. She seems happy enough, too. 
I must not forget to write to her and send that check I 
promised.’’ 


204 


A CIIOOKED PATH. 


“Hem! If you give right and left you’ll not have much 
left for yourself/’ growled Miss Payne. Katherine laughed. 

“ Oh ? by the way/’ resumed her chaperon, “ I forgot to tell 
you that Colonel Ormonde arrived, shortly after you went out, 
with a large basket of flowers. He was vexed at missing you. 
He came up about some business, and wanted to take you to 
see some one. However, he could not come back. I can’t 
say that I think he is well mannered. He was quite rough 
and brusque, and asked with such an ill-bred sneer if you were 
off on any private business with my brother.” 

“ 1 can’t help thinking that he was annoyed because I ap- 
pointed Mr. Payne co-trustee with Mr. Newton to my deed of 
gift,” said Katherine, thoughtfully. “ But I know I eould 
not have chosen a better man. ” 

“ Well, I believe so,” returned his sister, graciously. “ He 
is coming to dinner, so you can give him your check.” 

It was a great day for Cis and Charlie when they arrived in 
London to stay with “ auntie,” who was at the station to re- 
ceive and convey them to Wilton Street. 

Charlie still looked pale and thin enough to warrant a gen- 
eral treatment of cuddling and coddling calculated to satisfy 
any affectionate young woman’s heart. They were to sleep at 
Miss Payne’s residence, in order to be rested and fresh for their 
journey to the sea-side next day. 

Miss Payne herself was unusually amiable, for she had let 
her house satisfactorily for the greater part of the season, and 
this, as Katherine paid for the Sandbourne villa, was clear 
gain. 

When the boys and their auntie drove up to Miss Payne’s 
abode she was a good deal annoyed to find De Burgh at the 
door in the act of leaving a card. He hastened to hand her 
out of the carriage, exclaiming: 

“ This is the first bit of luck I have had for weeks. You 
always manage to be out when I call. Come along, my boys. 
What lucky little fellows you are, to come to town for the 
season!” 

“ Ah, but we are not going to stay-in town. We are going 
to the sea-side to bathe, and to sail in boats, and — ” 

“ Bun in, Charlie, like a good boy,” interrupted Katherine. 
“ Your tea will be quite ready.” 

“ I suppose you will think me horribly intrusive if 1 ask 
you to let me come in?” said He Burgh. There was some- 
thing unusually earnest in his tone. 

“ Oh, not at all,” returned Katherine, politely, though she 


A CKOOKED PATH. 


205 


would have much preferred bidding him good-morning. 
“ Here, Sarah, pray take the boys to their room and get their 
things off. I am sure they want their tea. " 

Miss Payne's sedate elderly house-maid looked quite elated 
as she took Charlie's hand and preceded by Cecil, led him up- 
stairs. 

“Are you really ‘ out ' when 1 come?" asked De Burgh 
when they reached the drawing-rgom. 

Katherine took off her hat and pushed her hair off her brow 
as she seated herself in a low chair. 

“ Yes, I think so. 1 do not usually cteny myself to any 
visitor." She looked up, half amused, half interested, by the 
almost imploring expression of his usually frard face. 

“ I rather suspect I am not a favored guest." 

“ Why do you say that, Mr. De Burgh? am I uncivil?" 

“ No. Wiiat a fool I am making of myself! Tell me, are 
you really going away to-morrow to bury yourself alive?" 

“ I am really . " 

“ After all, I believe you are right, /am always bored in 
London. Women think it a paradise." 

“I like London so well that I shall probably make it my 
head-quarters. " 

“ IPs rather premature for you to make plans, isn't it?" 

“ Whether it is or not, I have arranged my future rn&ch to 
my own satisfaction. " 

“ The deuce you have! What, at nineteen?" 

“ Is that an attempt to find out my age?" asked Katherine* 
laughing. 

“ Ko; for I fancy I know it. How far is this place you arc 
going to from town, and how do you get to it?" 

“ The journey tak?s about three hours>and a half, and you 
travel by the Southwestern line." 

“ Well, I intend tQ have the pleasure of running down to 
see you presently, if you will permit me." 

“ Oh, of course, we shall be very happy to see you." 

“I hope so," said De Burgh, with a smile. “I don't 
think you are very - encouraging. If there are any decent 
roads about this place, shall we resume the driving lessons?" 

“ Thank you " — evasively. “ I think of buying a donkey 
and chaise — certainly a pony for the boys. " 

I)e Burgh laughed. “ I suppose there is some boating to 
be had there. 1 shall certainly have a look at the place, even 
if I be not admitted to the shrine." There was a pause, dur- 
ing which De Burgh seemed in profound but not agreeable 
thought; then he suddenly exclaimed: “ By the way, have 


206 


A CROOKED PATH. 


you heard the news? Old Errington died, rather suddenly at 
last, some time last night.” 

44 Indeed!” cried Katherine, roused to immediate attention. 
44 I am very sorry to hear it. The marriage will then be put 
off. You know they were going to have it nearly a month 
sooner than was at first intended, because Mr. Errington 
feared the end was near. He was with his father, I hope?” 

“ Yes, I believe he hardly left him for the last few days. 
Now the wedding can not take place for a considerable time.” 

44 It will be a great disappointment,” observed Katherine. 

44 To which of the happy pair?” 

44 To both, I suppose,” she returned. 

44 Do you think they cared a rap about each other?” 

44 Yes, I do, indeed. Every one has a different way of 
showing their feelings, and Mr. Errington is quite different 
from you.” 

44 Different — and immensely superior, eh?” 

44 I did not say so, Mr. De Burgh.” 

44 No, certainly you did not, and I have no right to guess at 
what you think. You are right. I am very different from 
Errington; and you are very different from Lady Alice. I 
fancy, were you in her place, even the irreproachable bride- 
groom-elect would find he had a little more of our common 
humanity about him than he suspects,” said De Burgh, his 
dark eyes seeking hers with a bold, admiring glance. 

Katherine’s cheek glowed, her heart beat fast with sudden 
distress and anger. De Burgh’s suggestion stirred some 
strange and painful emotion. 

46 You are in a remarkably imaginary mood, Mr. De 
Burgh,” she said, haughtily. 44 1 can not see any connection 
between myself and your ideas.” 

44 Can’t you? Well, my ideas gather round you very often.” 

44 I wish he would go away; he is too audacious,” thought 
Katherine. While she said, 44 1 think, Mr. Errington will be 
sorry for his father; I believe he has good feeling, though he 
is so cold and quiet. ” 

44 Oh, he has every virtue under the sun! At any rate he 
ought to be fond of him, for I fancy the old man has toiled all 
his life to be able to leave his son a big fortune. ” 

44 Has he no brothers or sisters?” 

44 Two sisters, I believe, older than himself; both married.” 

There was another pause. Katherine would not break it. 
She felt peculiarly irritated against De Burgh. His observa- 
tions had greatly disturbed her. She could not, however, tell 
him to go, and he stood there looking perfectly at ease. This 


A CROOKED PATH. 


207 


awkward silence was broken by the welcome appearance of 
Cecil, who burst into the room exclaiming: “Auntie, tea is 
quite ready! There is a beautiful chicken pie and buttered 
cakes, and such a beautiful cat!” 

44 What! for tea, Cis?” said Katherine, letting him catch 
her hand and try to drag her away. 

44 N o-o. Why, what a silly you are! Puss is asleep in an 
arm-chair. Do come, auntie. The lady said I was to tell you 
that tea was quite ready.” 

44 Which means that the audience is over,” said De Burgh; 
44 and I rather think you are not sorry.” He smiled — not a 
pleasant smile. 44 Well, young man, did ^ou never see me 
before?” — to Cecil, who was staring at him in the deliberate, 
persistent way in which children gaze at objects which fascinate 
yet partly frighten them. 

44 1 was thinking you were like — ” The little fellow paused. 

44 Like whom?” 

Cis tightened his hold on his auntie’s hand, and still hesi- 
tated. 

44 Whom is Mr. De Burgh like?” asked Katherine, amused 
by the boy’s earnestness. 

44 Like the wicked uncle in the 4 Babes in the Wood.’ 
Auntie gave it to me. Such a beautiful picture-book.” 

De Burgh laughed heartily and good-humoredly. 44 1 can 
tell you, my boy, you would not find me a bad sort of uncle if 
it were ever my good fortune to call you nephew.” ^ 

44 But I have no uncle — only auntie,” returned Cis. 

44 Ay, a very pearl of an auntie. Try and be a good boy. 
Above all, do what you are bid. / never did what 1 was bid, 
and you see what I have come to.” 

44 1 don’t think there is much the matter with you,” said 
Cis, eying him steadily. Then, with a sudden change in the 
current of his thoughts, he cried, 44 Do come, auntie; the cakes 
will be quite cold.” 

44 1 will keep you no longer from the banquet,” said De 
Burgh. 44 1 know you are wishing me at — well, my probable 
destination; so good-bye for the present.” Then to Cecil: 
44 Shall I come and see you at — what is the name of the place? 
— Sandbourne, and take you out for a sail in a boat — a big 
boat?” 

44 Oh, yes, please.” 

44 Will you come with me, though I am like the wicked un- 
cle?” 

44 Yes, if auntie may come too.” 

44 If she begs very hard she may. Well, good-morning, 


208 


A CROOKED PATH. 


Miss Liddell. FH not forget Sandbourne, via Southwestern 
Railway . 99 So saying, De Burgh shook hands and departed. 

The next day Miss Payne escorted her suddenly increased 
party to their marine retreat, returning the following after- 
noon to attend to the details of letting her house, for which 
she had had a good offer. 

Then came a breathing space of welcome repose to Kath- 
erine. The interest — nay, the trouble — of .the children drew 
her out of herself, and dwarfed the past with the more urgent 
demands of the present. Cliff Cottage was a pretty, pleasant 
abode. The living rooms, which were of a good size, two of 
them opening with»b ay- windows on the pleasure-ground which 
surrounded the house on three sides, were, with the bedrooms 
over them, additions to a very small abode. 

These Katherine succeeded in making pretty and comforta- 
ble. To wake in the morning and hear the pleasant murmur 
of the w T aves; to open her window to the soft, sweet, briny 
air, and look out on the waters glittering in the early golden 
light; to listen to the laughter and shrill cries of Cis and 
Charlie chasing each other in the garden, and feel that they 
were her charge — all this contributed to restore her to a healthy 
state of mind, to strengthen and to cheer her. 

Cecil, to his dismay at first, was dispatched every morning 
to school, where he soon made friends and began to feel at 
homo. Charlie Katherine taught herself, as he was still deli- 
cate. Then a pony was added to the establishment, and old 
Francois, ex-courier and factotum, used to take the young 
gentlemen for long excursions, each riding turn about on the 
quiet, sensible little Shetland. 

The pale cheeks which helped to make Charlie so dear to 
his aunt began to show something of a healthy color before the 
end of May, and Katherine sometimes laughed to find herself 
boasting of Cecil’s parts and progress to Miss Payne. But 
the metamorphosis wrought by the young magicians in this 
important personage was the most remarkable of the effects 
they produced. Had Miss Liddell been less pleasant and 
profitable, it is doubtful if Miss Payne would have consented 
to allow children — boys — to desecrate the precincts of her spo^ 
less dwelling; they were in her estimation extremely objection- 
able. Katherine was, however, a prime favorite; she had 
touched Miss Payne as none of her former inmates ever did. 

Years of battling with the world had coated her heart with 
a tolerably hard husk; but there was a heart beneath the stony 
sheath, and by some occult sympathy Katherine had pierced 


A CROOKED PATH. 209 

to the hidden fount of feeling, and her chaperon found there 
was more flavor and warmth in life than she once thought. 

When, therefore, she had completed her business in London 
and was settled at Cliff Cottage, she was surprised to find that 
the boys did not worry her; nay, when they came racing to 
meet her in wild delight to show a tangled dripping mass of 
shells and sea-weed which they had collected in their wading, 
scrambling wanderings on the shore and among the rocks, she 
found herself unbending, almost involuntarily, and examining 
their treasures with unfeigned interest. Then Cecil's very 
fluent descriptions of his experiences at school, his escapades, 
his torn garments, the occasional quarrels between the two 
boys, their aiDpropriation of Francis, and their breakages— all 
seemed to grow natural and pardonable when the young cul- 
prits ran to take her by the hand, and looked in her face with 
their innocent, trusting eyes. On the whole. Miss Payne had 
never been so happy before, and Katherine forgot the shifting 
sands on which she was uprearing the graceful fabric of her 
tranquil life. 

Sometimes they lured Bertie to spend a couple of days with 
them — days which were always marked with a white stone. 
What arguments and rambles Katherine enjoyed with him, 
and what goodly cheoks she drew to further his numerous un- 
dertakings! 

De Burgh did not fail to carry out his threat of inspecting 
Sandbourne. He found a valid excuse in a commission from 
Colonel Ormonde to advise Miss Liddell respecting a pair of 
ponies she had asked him to buy for her. 

His visit was not altogether displeasing. Ho woman is quite 
indifferent to a man who admires her in the hearty, wholesale 
way which De Burgh did not try to conceal. Katherine was 
much too feminine not to like the incense of his devotion, espe- 
cially when he kept it within certain limits. She did not 
credit him with any deep feeling; but in spite of her strong 
conviction that he was attracted by her money, she recognized 
a certain sincerity in his liking for herself. She enjoyed the 
idea of humbling his immense assurance, believing that any 
pain she might inflict would be short-lived, while he was 
amazed to find how swiftly the hours flew past when he allowed 
himself to spend a couple of days at Sandbourne — surprised to 
feel so little of the contemptuous bitterness with which he 
generally regarded his fellow-creatures, and sometimes won- 
dered if it were possible that something more simple than even 
his boyish self had come back to him. 

* Still, Bertie Payn«e was a more welcome guest than De Burgh, 


210 


A CROOKED PATH. 


in spite of his unspoken but evident devotion. With Bertie 
she could speak openly of matters on which she would not 
touch when with the other. To Bertie she could talk of the 
mysteries of life, and argue on questions of belief. She was 
touched by the eagerness he showed to convert her to his own 
extremely evangelical views, and though differing from him 
on many points, she deeply respected the sincerity of his con- 
victions. 

The degree of favor shown by her to 44 that psalm-singing 
Puritan,” as De Burgh termed him, was gall and wormwood 
(o the latter, and indeed so irritated his spirit that he was 
driven to speak of the annoyance it caused him to Mrs. Or- 
monde, of whose discretion and judgment he had but a poor 
opinion. 

Meantime no one heard or saw anything of Errington, who 
was supposed to be deep in the settlement of his father’s affairs, 
and winding up the estate, as the well-known house of Erring- 
ton ceased to exist when the head and founder was no more. 
Lady Alice had gone to stay with her brother and sister-in-law, 
who lived abroad, as it was impossible for her to enter into the 
gayeties of the season under existing circumstances, and the 
marriage was postponed until the end of J uly. 

In short, a lull had stilled the actors in this little drama. 
The stream of events had entered one of the quiet pools which 
here and there hold the most rapid current tranquil for a time. 

Wifli Mrs. Ormonde all went well. She had the newest and 
most charming gowns and bonnets, mantles and hats. She 
found herself very well received by society, and quite a favorite 
with Lady Mary Vincent, who was a very popular person. So 
much occupied was the pretty little woman that May was 
nearly over before she could find time to accept her sister-in- 
law’s repeated invitation to Cliff Cottage. 

44 I am going down to Sandbourne on Friday,” she said to 
De Burgh one evening as she was waiting for her carriage after 
a musical party at Lady Mary Vincent’s. 

44 Indeed! I thought you were going last Monday.” 

44 Oh, I could not go on Monday. But if 1 don’t go on 
Friday I do not think I shall manage my visit at all. Tell 
me, what does Katherine find to keep her down there? Is it 
Bertie Payne?” 

44 IIow can I tell? She seems contented enough. For that 
matter, she might find my society equally attractive. Payne 
does not go down as often as I do.” 

44 No? — but then Katherine has a leaning to sanctity, and 
you are no saint. ” - 


A CROOKED PATH. 


211 


“ True. By the way, talking of saints, there is a report 
that old Errington's affairs were not left in as flourishing a 
condition as was expected . 99 

“ Oh, nonsense! It is some mere ill-natured gossip.” 

“ 1 hope so. I think I will come down on Saturday and 
escort you back to town . 99 

66 Pray do; it will enliven us a little.” A shout of “ Mrs. 
Ormonde's carriage!” cut short the conversation, and Mrs. 
Ormonde did not see He Burgh again until they met at Cliff 
Cottage. 

Mrs. Ormonde's visit, long anticipated, did not prove an 
unmixed pleasure. She objected to what she considered the 
terribly long drive of some five miles from the railway station 
to Katherine's secluded residence; she* turned up her pretty 
little nose at the smallness of the cottage and its general home- 
liness; she evinced an unfriendly spirit toward Miss Payne, who 
was perfectly unmoved thereby; and when the boys, well 
washed and spruced up, approached her, not too eagerly, she 
scarcely noticed them. This, of course, reacted on the little 
fellows, who showed a decided inclination to avoid her. 

She was tired after a warm journey and previous late hours, 
and dreadfully afraid that sea air and sun together would ‘have 
a ruinous effect on her complexion. When, however, she had 
had tea and made a fresh toilet, she took a less gloomy view of 
life at Sandbourne, and having recovered her temper, she re- 
membered it would be wiser not to chafe her sister-in-law. 

“ To be sure,” thought the astute little woman, “ the boys' 
settlement is out of her power to revoke; but it would be rather 
good if she came to live with us, instead of filling the pockets 
of this prim, presumptuous, self-satisfied old maid. 1 am sure 
she is awfully selfish, and I do hate selfishness. '' 

So reflecting, she descended serene and smiling. Half an 
hour after, she had so completely recovered herself as to de- 
clare she had never seen the boys Iook so well, that they were 
quite grown, etc. , etc. 

After dinner Cecil displayed his exercise and copy books, 
and received a due meed of praise, not unmixed with a little 
sarcastic remark or two respecting the wonderful effect of his 
aunt's influence, which did not escape the notice of her son, 
who felt, though he did not understand why, that she was not 
quite so well pleased as she affected to be. 

“ And don't you feel dreadfully dull here?” asked Mrs. Or- 
monde, as the sisters-in-law strolled along the beach under the 
shelter of the east cliff, which hid them from the bright morn- 
ing sunlight. 


212 


A CROOKED PATH. 


“ No, not as yet. I should not like to live here always; hut 
at present I like the place. You must confess it is very 
pretty.” 

“ Yes, just now, when the weather is fine. When you have 
rain and a gale it must be fearfully dreary.” 

“ We have had some rough days, but the bay has a beauty 
of its own even in a storm, and we shall not be here in the 
winter. - ” 

“ De Burgh runs down to see you pretty often?” asked MrS. 
Ormonde, after a short pause. The old" regimental habit of 
calling men by their surnames still returned when she was off 
guard. 

“ Yes,” replied Katherine, calmly; “ he seems to enjoy a 
day by the sea-side/-’ 

Mrs. Ormonde laughed — a hard laugh. “ I dare say you 
enjoy it too.” 

“ Mr. De Burgh is not particularly sympathetic to me, but 
I like him better than I did. ” 

“ Oh, I dare say he makes himself very pleasant to you, and 
I never knew him to show attention to an unmarried woman 
before, nor to many married women either. Of course it 
would be absurd to suppose that if you had not a good fortune 
you would see quite so much of him.” 

“Naturally,” returned Katherine. “1 fancy my money 
would be of great use' to him; so it would to most men. That 
does not affect me. If it is an incentive to make them agree- 
able and useful, why, so be it.” 

“ I did not expect to hear you talk like that. Now I hate 
and despise mercenary men.” 

Well, you see, the man or the woman must have money 
or there can be no marriage.” 

“ How worldly you have grown, Kate!” cried Mrs. Or- 
monde, in a superior tone. She did not perceive anything but 
sober seriousness in her sister-in-law’s tone, and was infinitely 
annoyed at her taking the insinuations against De Burgh’s dis- 
interestedness with such indifference. “ I suppose you think 
it would be a very fine thing to be Baroness de Burgh, and go 
to court with all the family jewels on.” 

“ 1 shall certainly not go as Katherine Liddell.” 

“ Pray, why not? Ah, yes; it would all be very fine! But 
I am too deeply interested in you, dear, not to warn you that 
De Burgh would make a very bad husband; he has such a 
horrid, sneering way sometimes; and as to beir™ 
constancy is a thing unknown to him. ” 



A CKOOKED PATH. 213 

“ What would Colonel Ormonde say if he knew you gave 
his favorite kinsman so bad a character?” 

“ Oh,, my dear Katherine, you must not betray me! “ Duke 
would be furious. But of course your happiness • is my first 
consideration.” 

“ Thank you/” returned Katherine, gravely. 

“And Mr. Payne, how does he like Mr. De Burgh’s visits 
here?” 

“ I don’t think he minds ” — seriously. “ I should be sorry 
if he were annoyed. I am very fond of Bertie Payne. ” 

This declaration somewhat bewildered Mrs. Ormonde. But 
before she could find suitable words to reply, Charlie came 
running to meet them, jumping up to kiss his aunt first, and 
cried: “Mr. De Burgh has come. I saw him driving up to 
the hotel outside the omnibus. ” 

“ The omnibus!” repeated Mrs. Ormonde. 

“ He would find no other conveyance from the train unless 
he ordered one previously,” said Katherine, laughing. 

“ Dear me! I suppose he will be here directly. How early 
he must have started!” in a tone of annoyance. “ 1 feel so 
hot and uncomfortable after this dreadfully long walk, I must 
change my dress before I see any one. ” And she hastened on. 

After holding his aunt’s hand for awhile, Charlie darted 
away to overtake Francis, whom he perceived at a little dis- 
tance. 

“ I declare, Katherine, you are quite supplanting me with 
those boys!” exclaimed their mother, querulously. 

“ Ada, I would not for the world wean them from you, if— 
I mean ” — stopping the words which rushed to her lips. “ I 
should be sorry. But you have new ties — another boy. Could 
you not spare Cis and Charlie to me— for I have no one?” 

“ I am sure that is your own fault. However, if after three 
or four months’ experience you are not tired of them, I shall 
be very much surprised.” 

On reaching the house, Mrs. Ormonde went straight to her 
own apartment to “ refit,” and Katherine sat down in the 
smaller drawing or morning-room, which looked west and was 
cool. She had not been there many minutes before De Burgh 
was announced. 

“ Alone!” he exclaimed. “ Where is Mrs. Ormonde?” 

“ She will be here immediately.” 

“Has she persuaded you to return with her? I wish you 
would. Lady 0 gives a dinner at Richmond on Thurs- 

day; it will be gather amusing. I know most of the fellows 


214 


A CROOKED PATH. 


who are going, and I think you would enjoy it. You like 
good talkers, 1 know. ” 

44 Thank you; 1 have refused.” 

“ Absolutely?” 

44 Absolutely.” 

De Burgh came over and leaned his shoulder against the 
side of the window opposite to where Katherine sat. 

44 What are you thinking of, if 1 may ask, Miss Liddell?” 
he said. 44 You have scarcely heard what I said. They are 
not pleasant thoughts, I fancy.” 

44 No,” she returned, glad to put them into words that she 
might exorcise them. 44 Ada has just reproached me with 
supplanting her with her boys, and it made me feel, as Ameri- 
cans say, 4 bad/ ” 

44 Why?” he asked. 44 Why should you not? I would lay ( 
long odds that you love them more than she does. You are 
more a real mother to them. Why are you always straining 
at gnats? You really lose a Jot of time, which might be more 1 
agreeably occupied, worrying over the rights and wrongs of 
things. Follow my example: go straight ahead for whatever 
you desire, provided it's not robbery, and let things balance 
themselves.” 

44 Has that system made you supremely happy?” 

44 Happy! Oh, that is a big word. I have had some splen- | 
did spurts of enjoyment; and now 1 have an object to win. 1 
It will give me a lot of trouble; it's the heaviest stake I ever 
played for; but it will go hard with me if I don't succeed.” 

De Burgh had been looking out at? the stretch of water be- 
fore him as he spoke, but at his last words his eyes sought 
Katherine's with a . look she could not misunderstand. She 
shivered slightly, an odd passing sense of fear chilling her for 
a moment as she turned to lay her hat upon the Able near, J 
saying, in a cold, collected tone: 

44 You must always remember that the firmest resolution can 
not insure success.” 9 

44 It goes a long way toward it, however,” he replied. 

44 Ah, there is Cis!” cried Katherine, glad to turn the con- ’ 
versation, 44 come back from school. Are you not earlier than ^ 
usual, Cis?” — as the boy came bounding over the grass to the 1 
open window. 

44 No, auntie; it is one o'clock.” 

44 Well, young man,” said De Burgh, who was not sorry to 
be interrupted, as he felt he was treading dangerous ground, 
and with instinctive tact endeavored always to keep friends 


A CROOKED PATH. 215 

with Katherine's pets/ “I have brought you a presen/ if 
auntie will allow you to keep it." 

4 6 What is it? — a box of tools, real tools? I do so want a 
box of tools! But auntie is afraid 1 will cut myself." 

“ No; it’s a St. Bernard puppy that promises to turn out a 
fine dog." 

“Oh, thank you! thank you! that is nice. I don’t think 
you are a bit like the wicked uncle now. May I go and fetch 
it now, this moment?" 

“ Not till after dinner, dear." 

“Oh, isn’t it jolly! A real St. Bernard dog!" — capering 
about. “ You are a nice* man!" 

“ What are you making such a noise for, Cis?" exclaimed 
his mother, coming in, looking admirably well, fresh, becom- 
ingly dressed. “ Go away, dear, and be made tidy for your 
dinner. Well, Mr. De Burgh, I never dreamed of your arriv- 
ing so early. Did you get up in the middle of the night?" 

“ Not exactly. The fact is, I must drive over toRevelstoke 
late this evening to catch the mail train. 1 have a command 
to dine with the baron to-morrow, to talk over some business 
of importance, and dared not refuse, as you can imagine. The 
everlasting old tyrant has been quite amiable to me of late." 

“ Then you’ll not be here to escort me back to town, and I 
hate traveling alone!" cried Mrs. Ormonde. 

“ Unfortunately no," said De Burgh. “ But 1 have a piece 
of news for you that will freeze the marrow in your bones: 
Errington is completely ruined." 

“ Impossible!" cried both his hearers at once. 

“ It’s too true, I assure you. When, after the old man’s 
death, he began to look into things with his solicitor, he was 
startled to find certain deficiencies. Then the head clerk, the 
manager, who had everything in his hands — bossed the show, 
in short — disappeared, and on further examination it proved 
that the whole concern was a mere shell, out of which this 
scoundrel had sucked the capital. There was an awful amount 
of debt to other houses, several of which would have come 
down, and ruined, the unfortunates connected with them, if 
Errington had not come forward and sacrificed almost all he 
possessed to retrieve the credit of his name. He says he ought 
to have undertaken the risks as well as reaped the profit of the 
concern. Garston Hall is advertised for sale; so is the house 
in Berkley Square; bis stud is brought to the hammer — every- 
thing is given up. What he’ll do I haven’t an idea. But I 
must say I think his sense of honor is a little overstrained." 

“ And Lady Alice!" ejaculated Katherine. 


216 


A CROOKED PATH. 




“ Of course Melford will soon settle that, if it is not 
already, for a good deal was done before the matter got wind. 
There hasn’t been such a crash for a long time. In short. 
Erring ton is utterly, completely ruined. ” 

44 I never heard of such a fool!” cried Mrs. Ormonde. 44 It 
was bad enough to be disappointed of the wealth old Errington 
was supposed to have left behind him, but to give up every- 
thing! Why, he is only fit for a lunatic asylum. What an 
awful disappointment for poor Lady Alice!” 

Katherine did not, could not speak. The rush of sorrow 
for the heavy blow which had fallen on the man she had 
robbed, the shame and self-reproach, which had been lulled 
asleep for awhile, which now woke up with renewed power to 
torment and irritate — these were too much for her self-con- 
trol, and while Ms. Ormonde and De Burgh eagerly discussed 
the catastrophe, she kept silence and struggled to be com- 
posed. 



CHAPTER XIX. 


CONFESSION. 


44 Errington is completely ruined!” De Burgh’s words 
repeated themselves over and over again in Katherine’s ears 
through the darkness and silence of her sleepless night. What 
would become of him — that grave, stately man who had never 
known the touch of anything common or unclean? How 
would he live? And what an additional blow the rupture of 
his engagement with Lady Alice! He was certainly very fond 
of her. It was like him to give up all he possessed to save the 
honor of his name, but how would it be if he were penniless? 
Had she not robbed him, he might have enough to live com- 
fortably after satisfying every one. As she thought, a resolu- 
tion to restore what she had taken formed itself in her mind. 
Perhaps if he could show that he had still a solid capital, his 
engagement to Lady Alice need not be broken off. If she 
could restore him to competence, he would not refuse some 
provision for the poor dear boys. Were she secure on this 
point, she would be happier without the money than with it. 
But the humiliation of confessing — and to such a father con- 
fessor! How could she do it? Yet it must be done. N 

46 Good gracious, Katherine, you look like a ghost!” was 
Mrs. Ormonde’s salutation when the little party met at break- 
fast next morning. 44 Pray, have you seen one?” 

44 Yes; I have been surrounded by a whole gallery of ghosts 



A CKOOK ED PATH. 217 

nil night — which means that a bad conscience would not let 
me sleep. ” 

44 What nonsense! Why, you are a perfect saint, Kate, in 
some ways; but in others I must say you are foolish; yes, dear, 
I must say it — very foolish.” 

“ I dare say I am,” returned Katherine; 44 but whether I 
am or not, I have an intense headache, so you must excuse me 
if I am very stupid.” 

“ I am sure you want change, Katherine. Do come back 
with me to town. There is quite time enough to put up all 
you want before eleven, and the train goes at eleven-ten. 
There is a little dance, 4 small and early/ at Lady Mary Vin- 
cent's this evening, and I know she would be delighted to see 
you.” 

“ I do not think hot rooms the best cure for a headache,” 
observed Miss Payne; 44 and till yesterday Katherine has been 
looking remarkably well. She was out boating too long in the 
sun.” 

66 You are very good to trouble about me, Ada. My best 
cure is quiet. 1 will go and lie down as soon as I see you oH, 
and I dare say shall be myself again in the evening. I may 
come up to town for a day or two before you return to Castle- 
ford, but I will let you know.” 

Nothing more was said on the subject then, but when Kath- 
erine returned from the station after bidding her sister-in-law 
good-bye. Miss Payne met her with a strong recommendation 
to take some 44 sal volatile and water, and to Ke down at 
once. ” 

64 1 did not, of course, second Mrs. Ormonde's suggestions 
— the idea of your going for rest or health to her house! — but 
I am really vexed to see you look so ill. How do you feel?” 

44 Very well disposed to follow your good advice. If I could 
get some steep, I should be quite well.” Katherine smiled 
pleasantly as she spoke. She was extremely thankful to secure 
an hour or two of silence and solitude. 

During the night her heart, her brain, were in such a tumult 
she could not think consecutively. Alone in her room, and 
grown calmer, she could plan her future proceedings and screw 
her courage to the desperate sticking-point of action such as 
her conscience dictated. 

She fastened her door and set her window wide open. After 
gazing for some time at the sea, golden and glittering in the 
noonday sun, and inhaling the soft breeze which came in laden 
with briny freshness, she lay dowir and closed her eyes. But 
though keeping profoundly still, no restful look of sleep stole 


218 


A CROOKED PATH. 


over her set face; no, she was thinking hard, for how long she 
could not tell. When, however, she came down-stairs to join 
Miss Payne at tea, the anxious, nervous, alarmed expression of 
her eyes had changed to one of gloomy composure. 

44 Though I do not care to stay with Ada, I want to go to 
town to-morrow for a little shopping, and see Mr. Newton if I 
can. I will take the quick train at half past eight and return 
in the evening. You might send to meet the nine o’clock ex- 
press. Should anything occur to keep me, 1 will telegraph.’ 7 

44 Very well ” — Miss Payne’s usual reply to Katherine’s 
propositions. 44 But are you quite sure you feel equal to the 
journey?” 

44 Yes, quite equal,” returned Katherine, with a short, deep 
sigh. 44 1 believe it will do me good. ” 

That Errington had been stunned by the blow which had 
fallen so suddenly upon him can not be disputed. His first 
and bitterest concern was dread lest the character of his 
father’s house, which had always stood so high, lest the honor 
of his own name, should suffer the smallest tarnish. It was 
this that made him so eager to ascertain the full liabilities of 
the firm, so ready to sacrifice all he possessed so that no one 
save himself should be the loser. 44 If I accepted a handsome 
fortune from transactions over which I exercised no super- 
vision, I must hold myself doubly responsible for the result,” 
he argued, and at once set to work to turn all he possessed 
into money. 

In truth the prospect of poverty did not dismay him. 

His tastes were severely simple. It was the loss of power 
and position, which wealth always bestows, which he would 
feel most, and the necessity of renouncing Lady Alice. 

This was imperative. Yet it surprised him to perceive how 
little he felt the prospect of parting with her on his own ac- 
count. Indeed he was rather ashamed of his indifference. It 
was for Lady Alice he felt. It would be such a terrible disap- 
pointment — not that Errington had much personal vanity. 
He hoped and thought Lady Alice Mprdaunt liked him in a 
calm and reasonable manner, which is the best guarantee for 
married happiness. But it was the loss of a tranquil home, a 
luxurious life, an escape from the genteel poverty of a deeply 
embarrassed earl’s daughter to the ease and comfort of a rich 
man’s wife, that he deplored for her. Poor helpless child! 
she would probably find a rich husband ere long who would 
give her all possible luxuries, for a noble’s daughter 
of high degree is generally a marketable article. But he, 


A CROOKED PATH. 


210 


Miles Errington, would have been kind and patient. Would 
that other possible fellow be kind and patient too? Knowing 
his own sex, Errington doubted it. He had a certain amount 
of the generosity which belongs to strength. To children, and 
the kind of pretty, undecided women who rank as children, he 
was wonderfully considerate. But it was quite possible that 
were he married to a sensible, companionable wife he might 
be exacting. 

At present it seemed highly improbable that he should ever 
reach a position which would enable him to commit matri- 
mony. Thirty-four is rather an advanced age at which to 
begin life afresh. 

The prospect of bachelorhood, however, by no means dis- 
mayed him. Indeed, it was more a sense of his social duties as 
a man of fortune and a future senator that had impelled him 
to seek a wife, not an irresistible desire for the companionship 
of a ministering spirit. He was truly thankful that his mar- 
riage had been delayed, and that he was not hampered by any 
sense of duty toward a wife in his design of sacrificing his ail 
to save his credit. 

After the first few days of stunning surprise, Errington set 
vigorously to work to clear the wreck. Garston was adver- 
tised; his stud, his furniture— everything — put up for sale, 
and his own days divided between his solicitor and his stock- 
broker. His first step was to explain matters to his intended 
father-in-law, who, being an impulsive, self - indulgent man, 
swore a good deal about the ill-luck of all concerned, but at 
once declared the engagement must be at an end. 

As Lady Alice was still in Switzerland with her brother and 
his wife, it was considered wise to spare her the pain of an in- 
terview. Lord Melford explained matters to his daughter in 
an extremely outspoken letter, inclosing one from Errington, 
in which, with much good feeling, he bade her a kindly fare- 
well. To this she replied promptly, and a week saw the ex- 
tinction of the whele affair. Errington could not help smiling 
at this “ rapid act. It was then about three weeks after the 
blow had fallen — a warm glowing June morning. Erring- 
ton's man of business had just left him, and he had returned 
to his writing-table, which was strewn, or rather covered, with 
papers (nothing Errington ever handled was “ strewn ”)> and 
continued his task of making out a list of his private liabili- 
ties, which were comparatively light, when his valet — not yet 
discharged, though already warned to* look for another master 
— approached, with his usually impassive countenance, and 
presented a small note. 


220 


A CROOKED PATH. 


Errington opened it, and to his inexpressible surprise read 
as follows: 

“ To Mr. Errington, — Allow me to speak to you alone. 

“ Katherine Liddell. ” 

6C Who brought this?” asked Errington, suppressing all ex- 
pression as well as he could. 

“A young person in black, sir —leastways 1 think she’s 
young. ” t 

u Show her in; and, Harris, I am engaged if any one calls.” | 

Errington went to the door to meet liis most unexpected 
visitor. The next moment she stood before him. He bowed 
with much deference. She bent her head in silence, but did 
not offer to shake hands. She wore a black dress and a very 
simple black straw hat, round which a white gauze veil was v 
tied, which effectually concealed her face. 

“ Pray sit down,” was all Errington could think of saying, 
so astonished was he at her sudden appearance. 

Katherine took a seat opposite to his. She unfastened and 
took off her veil, displaying a face from which her usual rich 
soft color had faded, somber eyes, and tremulous lips. Look- 
ing full at him, and said, without greeting of any kind, “ Do 
you think me mad to come here?” 

“ I am a little surprised; but if I can be of any use — ” Er- 
rington began, calmly. She interrupted him. 

“ I hope to be of use to you. Ko one except myself can ex- 
plain how or why; that is the reason I have intruded upon 
you.” 

“ You do not intrude, Miss Liddell. I am quite at your 
service; only 1 hope you are not distressing yourself on my ac- 
count. ” 

“ On yours and my own.” Her eyes sunk, and her hands 
played nervously with the handle of a small dainty leather bag 
she carried, as she paused. Then, looking up steadily, and 
speaking in a monotonous tone, as if she were repeating a les- 
son, with parched lips she went on: “ 1 did you a great wrong 1 
some years ago. I was sorry, but I had not the courage to 
atone until 1 learned (only yesterday) that you had lost, or 
rather given up, your fortune, and that your engagement ; ; 
might be broken off. (I must speak of these things. You 
will forgive me before I come to an end.) Then I felt some- 
thing stronger than myself that forced me to tell you all.” 
Her heart beat so hard that her voice could not be steadied. | 
She stopped to breathe. 

“ I fear you are exciting yourself needlessly,” said Erring- 


A CROOKED TATH. 


221 


ton , quite bewildered, and almost fearing that liis visitor’s 
brain was affected. 

“ Oh, listen! — do listen! My uncle, John Liddell, your 
father’s old friend, left all his money to you. I hid the will, 
and succeeded as next of kin. The property amounts to some- 
thing more than eighty thousand pounds, and I have not spent 
half the income, so there are some savings besides. Can you 
not live comfortably on that, and marry Lady Alice?” 

Errington gazed at her for a moment speechless. A sigh of 
relief broke from Katherine. The color rose to her cheeks, 
her throat, her small white ears, and then slowly faded. 

“ 1 can hardly understand you, Miss Liddell. I fear you 
are under the effect of some nervous hallucination.” 

“ I am not. 1 can prove I am not.” She drew forth the 
packet inscribed “MS. to be destroyed,” and laid it before 
him. “ There is the will. Thank God, I never could bring 
myself to destroy it. Here, pray read it.” She opened the 
document and handed it to him. 

There were a few moments’ dead silence while Errington 
hastily skimmed the will. “ I am most reluctantly obliged to 
believe you,” he said at length. “ But what* an extraordinary 
circumstance! How” — looking earnestly at her — “how did 
it ever occur to you to — to — ” 

“ To commit a felony?” put in Katherine, as he paused. 

“ No; I was not going to use such a word,” he said, grave- 
ly, but not unkindly. 

“ If you have time to listen I will tell you everything. Now 
that I have told the ugly secret that has made a discord in my 
life, I can speak more easily.” But her sweet mouth still 
quivered. 

“ Y r ", tell me all,” said Errington, more eagerly than per- 
haps he had ever spoken before. 


In a low but more composed voice Katherine gave a rapid 
account of the circumstances which led to her residence with 
her uncle; of her intense desire to help the dear mother whose 
burden was almost more than she could bear; then of the 
change which came to the old miser — his increasing interest in 
herself, and finally of his expressed intention to change his 
will — as she hoped, in her favor; of her leaving it, by his 
direction, in the writing-table drawer; of his terribly sudden 
death. 

Then came the great temptation. “ When Mr. Newton said 
that if the will existed it would be in the bureau, but that as 
he had been on the point of making another, so he (Mr. New- 
ton) hoped he had destroyed the last, ’’.continued Katherine, 


222 


A CROOKED PATH. 


44 a thought darted through my brain. Why should it be 
found? He no longer wished its provisions to be carried out. 
I should not, in destroying or suppressing it, defeat the wishes 
of the dead. I determined, if Mr. Newton asked me a direct 
question, 1 would tell him the truth ; if not, I would simply be 
silent. In short, I mentally tossed for the guidance of my 
conduct. Silence won. Mr. Newton asked nothing; he was 
too glad that everything was mine. He was been very, very 
good to me. I imagined that half my uncle’s money would go 
to my brother’s children, but it did not; so when 1 came of 
age I settled a third upon them. Of course the deed of gift is 
now but so much waste paper, and for them 1 would earnestly 
implore you to spare a little yearly allowance for education, to 
prepare them to earn their own bread. I feel sure you will do 
this, and I do deeply dread their being thrown on Colonel Or- 
monde’s charity; their lot would be very miserable. My poor 
little boys!” Her voice broke, and she stopped abruptly. 

Errington’s eyes dwelt upon her, almost sternly, with the 
deepest attention, while she spoke. Nor did he break silence 
at once; he leaned back in his chair, resting one closed hand 
on the table before him. At last he exclaimed: 44 1 wish you 
had not told me this! 1 could not have imagined you capable 
of such an act. ” 

64 And more,” said Katherine; “although 1 wish to make 
what reparation I can, had that act to be done again — even 
with the anticipation of this bitter hour — I’d do it.” 

She looked straight into Errington’s eyes, her own aflame 
with sudden passion. He was silent, his brow slightly knit, a 
puzzled expression in his face. The natural motion of his 
mind was to condemn severely such a lawless sentiment, yet 
he could not resist thinking of those brilliant speaking eyes, 
nor help the conviction that he had never met a real live 
woman before. It was like a scene on the stage; for demon- 
strative emotion always appeared theatrical to him, only it was 
terribly earnest this time. 

44 You would not say so were you calmer,” said Errington, 
in a curious, hesitating manner. 44 Why — why did you not 
come and tell me your need for your uncle’s money? Do you 
think 1 would be so avaricious as to retain the fortune or all the 
fortune that ought to have been yours, when I had enough of 
my own?” 

44 How could I tell?” she cried. 44 If I knew you then as I 
do novy I should have asked you, and saved my soul alive; but 
what did the name of Errington convey to me? Only the idea 
of a greedy enemy! Are men so ready to cast the wealth they 


A CROOKED PATH. 


223 


can claim into the lap of another? When yon spoke to me 
that day at Castleford I thought I should have dropped at your 
feet with the overpowering sense of shame. But withal, when 
I remember my disappointment, my utter inability to help my 
dear, overtasked mother, round whom the net of difficulty, of 
debt, of fruitless work, was drawing closer and closer, I again 
feel the irresistible force of the temptation. You, who are 
wise and strong and just, might have resisted; but ” — with a 
slight, graceful gesture of humility — 4 4 you see what I am,” 

44 If you had stopped to think !” Errington was beginning 
with unusual severity, for he was irritated by the confusion in 
his own mind, which was so different from his ordinary unhesi- 
tating decision between right and wrong. 

44 But when you love any one very much — so entirely that 
you know every change of the dear face, the meaning even of 
the drooping hand or the bend of the weary head; when you 
know that a true brave heart is breaking under a load of care — 
care for you, for your future, when it will no longer be near 
to watch over and uphold you — and that no thought or ten- 
derness or personal exertion can lift that load, only the magic 
of gold, why, you would do almost anything to get it. Would 
you not if you loved like this?” concluded Katherine. She 
had spoken rapidly and with fire. 

44 But I never have,” returned Errington, startled. 

44 Then,” said she, with some deliberation, 44 wisdom for 
you is from one entrance quite shut out.” She pressed her 
handkerchief to her eyes, and was very still during a pause, 
which Errington hesitated to break. 

4 4 It is no doubt lost breath to excuse myself to a man of 
your character, only do believe I was not meanly greedy! 
Now 1 have told you Q^ery thing, I readily resign into your 
hands what I ought never to have taken. And — and you will 
spare my nephews wherewithal to educate them? Do what I 
can, this is beyond my powers, but I trust to your generosity 
not to let them be a burden on Colonel Ormonde. 1 leave the 
will with you. ” She made a movement as if to put on her 
veil. 

44 Listen to me. Miss Liddell,” said Errington, speaking 
very earnestly and with an effort. 44 You are in a state of 
exaltation, of mental excitement. The consciousness of the 
terrible mistake into which you were tempted lias thrown your 
judgment off its balance. I do not for an instant doubt the 
sincerity of your proposition, but a little reflection will show 
you I could not entertain it. ” 

44 Why not? I am quite willing to bear the blame, the 


224 


A CROOKED PATH. 


shame, 1 deserve, rather than see you parted from the woman 
who was so nearly your wife, who would no doubt suffer keen- 
ly, and who — ** 

“ Pray hear me/* interrupted Errington. “ To part with 
Lady Alice is a great aggravation of my present troubles; but 
considering the kind of life to which we were both accustomed, 
and which she had a right to expect, I am sincerely. thankful 
she was preserved from sharing my lot. Alone I can battle 
with life; distracted by knowing 1 had dragged her down, I 
should be paralyzed. I shall always remember with grateful 
regard the lady who honored me by promising to be my wife, 
but I shall be glad to know that she is in a safe position under 
the care of a worthier man than myself. Thai matter is at 
rest forever. Now as to using the information you have placed 
in my power, you ask what is impossible. First, it is evident 
that the late Mr. Liddell fully intended to alter his will in 
your favor. It would have been most unjust to have bestowed 
liis fortune on me. I am extremely glad it is yours.** 

“ But/* again interrupted Katherine, “ why should you not 
share it at least? Why should you be penniless while I am 
rich with what is not mine?** 

“ I shall not be absolutely penniless/* said Errington, smil- 
ing gravely. “Even if I were/* he continued, with unusual 
animation, “ do you think me capable of rebuilding my fort- 
une on your disgrace? or of inventing some elaborate lie to ac- 
count for the possession of that unlucky will? No amount of 
riches could repay me for either. I dare say the temptation 
you describe was irresistible to a nature like yours, and I dare 
say too the punishment of your self-condemnation is bitter 
enough. Now you must reflect that your duty is to keep the 
secret to which you. have bound yourself. If you raise the veil 
which must always hide the true facts of your succession, you 
would create great unhappiness and confusion in Colonel Or- 
monde’s family, and injure the innocent woman whom he 
would never have married had he not been sure you would pro- 
vide for the boys. It would be cruel to break up a home 
merely to indulge a morbid desire for atonement. No, Miss 
Liddell. Be guided by me; accept the life you have brought 
upon yourself. /, the only one who has a right to do it, will- 
ingly resign what ought to have been yours without your un- 
fortunately illegal act. Your secret is perfectly safe with me. 
Time will heal the wounds you have inflicted on yourself and 
enable you to forget. Leave this ill-omened document with 
me; it is safer than in your hands. Indeed there is no use in 
keeping it.** 






A CROOKED PATH. 


225 


“ But what — what will become of you ?” she asked, with 
strange familiarity, the outcome of strong excitement which 
carried her over all conventional limits. 

“ Oh, I have had some training in the world both of men 
and books, and I hope to be able to keep the wolf from the 
door.” 

“ Would you not accept part at least — a sum of money, you 
know, to begin something?” asked Katherine, her voice quiv- 
ering, her nerves relaxing from their high tension, and feeling 
utterly beaten, her high resolves of sacrifice and renunciation 
tumbling about her, like a house of cards, at the touch of com- 
mon sense. 

44 1 do not think any arrangement of the kind practicable,” 
returned Errington, with a kind smile. “ I understand your 
eagerness to relieve your conscience by an act of restitution, 
but now you are exonerated. I ask nothing but that you 
should forgive yourself, and knit up the raveled web of your 
life. The fortune ought to be yours — is yours — shall be 
yours. ” 

“ Will you promise that if you ever want help — money help 
■ — you will ask me? 1 shall have more money every year, for 
I shall never spend my income.” 

“ I shall not want help,” he returned, quietly. “But 
though it is not likely we shall meet again, believe me I shall 
always be glad to know you are well and happy. Let this 
painful conversation be the last we have on this subject. For 
my part, 1 grant you plenary absolution.” 

“ You are good and generous; you are wise too; your judg- 
ment constrains me. Yet I hope I shall never see you again. 
It is too humiliating to meet your eyes.” She spoke brokenly 
as she tied the white veil closely over her face. 

“ Nevertheless we part friends,” said Errington, and held 
out his hand. She put hers in it. He felt how it trembled, 
and held it an instant with a friendly pressure. Then he 
opened the door and followed her to the entrance, where he 
bowed low as she passed out. 

Errington returned at once to his writing-table and his cal- 
culations. He took up his pen, but he did not begin to write. 
He leaned back in his chair and fell into an interesting train 
of thought. What an extraordinary mad proceeding it was of 
that girl to conceal the will! It was strangely unprincipled. 
“ How impossible it is to trust a person who acts from im- 
pulse! The difference between masculine and feminine char- 
acter is immense. No man with a grain of honor in him 
would have done what she did; only some dastardly hound 


226 


A CROOKED PATH. 


who could cheat at cards. And she — somehow she seems a 
pure good woman in spite of it. I suppose in a woman's sen- 
sitive and weaker nature good and evil are less distinct, more 
shaded into each other. After all, 1 think I would trust my 
life to the word of this daring law-breaker." And Errington 
recalled the expressive tones of her voice, surprised to feel 
again the strange thrill which shivered through him when she 
had looked straight into his eyes, her own aglow with mo- 
mentary defiance, and said, “ Had it to be done again, I’d do 
it!" He had never been brought face to face with real emo- 
tion before. He knew such a thing existed; that it led like 
most things to good and evil; that it was exceedingly useful 
to poets, who often touched him, and to actors, who did not; 
but in real every-day life he had rarely, if ever, seen it. The 
people with whom he associated were rich, well born, well 
trained; a crumpled rose leaf here and there was the worst 
trouble in their easy, conventional, luxurious lives. Of course 
he had met men on the road to ruin who swore and drank and 
gambled and generally disgraced themselves. Such cases, 
however, did not affect him much; he only touched such char- 
acters with moral tongs. Now this delicate, refined girl had 
humbled herself before him. Her sweet, varying tones, her 
moist, glowing eyes, the indescribable tremulous earnestness 
which was the under-tone of all she said, her determined efforts 
for self-command, made a deep impression on him, 4 6 Was 
she right when she said that from him “ wisdom by one en- 
trance was quite shut out?" At all events he felt, though he 
did not consciously acknowledge it even to himself, that this 
impulsive, inexperienced girl, whom he strove to look down 
upon from the unsullied heights of his own integrity, had re- 
vealed to him something of life’s inner core which had hith- 
erto been hidden from his sight. 

But all this dreaming was unpardonable waste of time when 
so much serious work lay before him. So Errington resolutely 
turned from his unusual and disturbing reverie, dipped his pen 
in the ink, and began to write steadily. 


CHAPTEK XX. 

PLENARY ABSOLUTION. 

Katherine never could distinctly remember what she did 
after leaving Errington. She was humbled in the dust — 
crushed, dazed. She felt that every one must perceive the 
stamp of 64 felon " on her. 

The passionate desire to restore his rightful possessions to 


A CKOOKED PATH. 


227 


Errington, to confess all, had carried her through the dread- 
ful interview. She was infinitely grateful to him for the kind 
tact with which he concealed the profound contempt her con- 
fession must have evoked, but no doubt that sentiment was 
now in full possession of his mind. It showed in his unhesi- 
tating, even scornful, rejection of her offered restitution. She 
almost regretted haying made the attempt, and yet she had a 
kind of miserable satisfaction in having told the truth, the 
whole truth, to Errington; anything was better than wearing 
false colors in his sight. 

It was this sense of deception that had imbittered her inter- 
course with him at Castleford; otherwise she would have been 
gratified by his grave friendly preference. 

How calm, how unmoved, he seemed amid the wreck of his 
fortunes! Yes, his was true strength — the strength of self- 
mastery. How deferent, how’ far nobler than the vehemence 
of De Burgh’s will, which was too strong for his guidance! 
But Lady Alice could never have loved Errington— never — or 
she would have loved on and waited for him till the time came 
when union might be possible. Had she been in her place! 
But at the thought her heart throbbed wildly with the sudden 
perception that she could have loved him well, with all her 
soul, and rested on him, confident in his superior wisdom and 
strength — a woman’s ideal love. And before this man she had 
been obliged to lay down her self-respect, to confess she had 
cheated him basely, to resign his esteem forever! It was a 
bitter punishment, but even had she been stainless and he a 
free man, she. Katherine, was not the sort of girl he would 
like. She was too impulsive, too much at the mercy of her 
emotions, too quick in forming and expressing opinions. No; 
the feminine reserve and tranquillity of Lady Alice were much 
more likely to attract his affections and call forth his respect. 
This was an additional ingredient of bitterness, and Katherine 
felt herself an outcast, undeserving of tenderness or esteem. 

The weather was oppressively warm and sunless. A dim 
instinctive recollection of her excuse for coming to town 
forced Katherine to visit some of the shops where she was in 
the habit of dealing, and then she sat for more than a weary 
hour in the Ladies’ Room at Waterloo Station, affecting to 
read a newspaper which she did not see, waiting for the train 
that would take her home to the darkness and stillness in 
which friendly night would hide her for awhile. The journey 
back was a continuation of the same tormenting dream-like 
semi-consciousness, and by the time she reached Cliff Cottage 
she felt physically ill. 


228 


A CROOKED PATH. 


44 It was dreadfully foolish to go up to town in this heat,” 
said Miss Payne, severely, when she brought up some tea to 
Katherine’s room, where she retreated on her arrival. 44 1 
dare say you could have written for what you wanted.” 

44 Not exactly ” — with a faint smile. 

44 1 never saw you look so ill. You must take some sal 
volatile, and lie down. If there had been much sun, I should 
have said you had had a sunstroke. I hope, however, a good 
night’s rest will set you up.” 

44 No doubt it will; so I will try and sleep now.” 

44 Quite right. 1 will leave you, and tell the boys you can 
not see them till to-morrow.” So Miss Payne, who had a 
grand power of minding her own affairs and abstaining from 
troublesome questions, softly closed the door behind her. 

It took some time to rally from the overwhelming humilia- 
tion of this crisis. Katherine came slowly back to herself, yet 
not quite herself. Miss Payne had been so much disturbed by 
her loss of appetite, of energy, of color, that she had insisted 
on consulting the local doctor, who pronounced her to be suf- 
fering from low fever and nervous depression. He prescribed 
tonics and warm sea-water baths, which advice Katherine 
meekly followed. Soon, to the pride of the Sandbourne JEscu- 
lapius, a young practitioner, she showed signs of improvement, 
and declared herself perfectly well. 

Perhaps the tonic which assisted her to complete recovery 
was a letter which reached her about a week after the inter- 
view that had affected her so deeply. It was addressed in 
large, firm, clear writing, which was strange to her. 

44 1 venture to trouble you with a few words,” it ran, 44 be- 
cause when I last saw you 1 was profoundly impressed by the 
suffering you could not hide. I can not refrain from writing 
to entreat you will accept the position in which you are placed. 
Having done your best to rectify what is now irrevocable, be 
at peace with your conscience. I am the only individual en- 
titled to complain or interfere with your succession, and I 
fully, freely make over to you any rights I possess.' Had your 
uncle’s fortune passed to me, it would have been an injustice 
for which I should have felt bound to atone; nor would you 
have refused my proposition to this effect. Consider this page 
of your life blotted out, casting it from your mind. Use and 
enjoy your future as a woman of vour nature, so far as I 
understand it, can do. It will probably be long before 1 see 
you again— which I regret the less because it might pain you 


A CROOKED PATH. 


229 


to meet me before time has blunted the keen edge of jour self- 
reproach. Absent or present, however, I shall always be glad 
to know that you are well and happy. 

44 Will you let me have a line in reply? 

44 Yours faithfully. Miles Errington. ” 

The perusal of this letter brought Katherine the infinite re- 
lief of tears. How good and generous he was! How heartily 
she admired him ! How glacily she confessed her own inferior- 
ity to him! Forgiven by him, she could face life again with a 
sort of humble- courage. But oh! it would be impossible to 
meet his eyes. No; years would not suffice to blunt the keen 
self-reproach which the thought of him must always call up — 
the shame, the pride, the dread, the tender gratitude. Long 
and passionately she wept before she could recover sufficiently 
to write him the reply he asked. Then it seemed to her that 
the bitterness and cruel remorse had been melted and washed 
away by these* warm, grateful tears. He forgave her, and she 
could endure the pressure of her shameful secret more easily in 
future. At last she took her pen, and feeling that the lines 
she was about to trace would be a final farewell, wrote: 

44 My words must be few, for none I can find will express 
my sense of the service yours have done me. I accept your 
gift. I will try and follow your advice. Shall the day ever 
come when you will honor me by accepting part of what is 
your own? Thank you for your kind suggestion not to meet 
me; it would be more than I could bear. 

44 Yours, Katherine.” 

Then with deepest regret she tore up his precious letter into 
tiny morsels, and striking a match, consumed them. It would 
not do to incur the possibility of such a letter being read by 
any third pair of eyes. Moreover, she was careful to post her 
reply herself. And so, as Errington said, that page of her 
story was blotted out, at least from the exterior world, but to 
her own mind it would ever be present; round this crisis her 
deepest, most painful, ay, and sweetest, memories would cling. 
It was past, however, and she must take up hqr life again. 

She felt something of the weakness, the softness, which con- 
valescents experience when first they begin to go about after a 
long illness, the dreamy, quiet pleasure of coming back to life. 
The boys continued to be her deepest interest. * So time went 
on, and no one seemed to perceive the subtle change which 
had sobered her spirit. 


230 


A CROOKED PATH. 


The season was over, and Mrs. Ormonde descended on Cliff 
Cottage for a parting visit. She had only given notice of her 
approach by a telegram. 

44 Yon know you are quite too obstinate, Katherine,” she 
said, as the sisters-in-law sat together in the drawing-room, 
waiting for the cool of the evening before venturing out. 
“ You never came to me all through the season except once, 
when you wanted to shop, and now you refuse to join us at 
Castleford in September, when we are to have really quite a 
nice party: Mr. De Burgh and Lord Riversdale and — oh! sev- 
eral really good men. ** 

44 1 dare say I do seem stupid to you, but then, you see, I 
know what I want. You are very good to wish for me. Next 
year I shall be very pleased to pay you a visit.” 

44 Then what in the world will you do in the winter?” 

44 Remain where I am — I mean with Miss Payne — and look 
out for a house for myself.” 

44 But, my dear, you are much too young to live alone.” 

44 I am twenty-one now; I shall be twenty- two by the time 
I am settled in a house of my own. And, Ada, I am going to 
ask you a favor. Lend me your boys to complete my respecta- 
bility. 99 

44 What! for altogether? Why, Katherine, you will marry, 
and — ” 

44 Well, suppose I do, that need not prevent my having the 
comfort of my nephews* company until the fatal knot is tied.** 

44 Now, dear Katherine, do tell me — are you engaged to any 
one? Not a foreigner? — anything but a foreigner!” 

44 At present,** said Katherine, with some solemnity, 44 1 
am engaged to two young men. ** 

44 My dear! You of all young girls! I am astonished. 
There is nothing so deep, after all, as a demure young woman. 
1 suppose you are in a scrape, and want Colonel Ormonde to 
help you out of it?** 

44 1 think I can manage my own affairs.** 

44 Don*t be too sure. A girl with money like you is just the 
subject for a breach of promise case. Do I know either of 
these men?** 

44 Yes, both. ** 

44 Who are they?** cried Mrs. Ormonde, with deepening in- 
terest. 

44 Cis and Charlie,** returned Katherine, laughing. 

4 4 1 really can not see anything amusing in this sort of stupid 
mystification,** cried Mrs. Ormonde, in a huff. 

44 Pray forgive me; but your determination to marry me out 


A CROOKED PATH. 


231 


of hand tempts me to such naughtiness. However, be forgiv- 
ing, and lend me the boys till next spring. They might go to 
Castleford for Christmas.” 

“ Oh, no,” interrupted Mrs. Ormonde, hastily. “ 1 forgot 
to mention that Ormonde has almost promised to spend next 
Christmas in Paris. It is such a nuisance to be in one's own 
jfiace at Christmas; there is such work distributing blankets 
and coals and things. If one is away, a check to the rector 
settles everything. I assure you the life of a country gentle- 
man is not all pleasure.” 

“ Then you will let me have the boys?” 

“ Well, dear, if you really like it, I do not see, when you 
have such a fancy, why you should not be indulged.” 

“ Thank you. And I may choose a school for Cis?” 

“ I am sttre neither Ormonde nor I would interfere; just 
now it is of no great importance. But — of course — that is — I 
should like some allowance for myself out of their money.” 

“ Of course you should have whatever you are in the habit 
of receiving.” 

After this, Mrs. Ormonde was most cordial in her approba- 
tion of everything suggested by her sister-in-law. The friend- 
ly conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Cecil with 
his satchel over his shoulder. He went straight to his young 
aunt and hugged her. 

“ Well, Cis, I see you don't care for mother now,” ex- 
claimed Mrs. Ormonde, easily moved to jealousy, as she always 
was. 

“ Oh, yes, I do! only you don't like me to jump on you, 
and auntie doesn't mind about her clothes.” And he kissed 
her heartily. 

“ Do you want to come back to Castleford?” 

“ What, now? when the holidays begin next week?” — this 
with a rueful expression. “ Why, we were to have a sailing 
boat, and old Norris the sailor and his boy are to come out 
every evening.” 

4 6 Then you don't want to come?” 

“ Oh, mayn't we stay a little longer, mother? It is so nice 
here!” 

“ You may stay as long as your aunt cares to keep you, for 
all I care,” cried Mrs. Ormonde, somewhat spitefully. 

“Oh, thank you, mother dear — thank you!” throwing his 
arms round her neck. “ I'll be such a good boy when I come 
back; but it is nice here. Then you have baby, and he does 
not worry you as much as we do.” Katherine thought this a 
very significant reply. 


232 


A CROOKED PATH. 


“ There ! there !' 5 cried Mrs. Ormonde, disengaging herself 
from the warm, clinging arms. “ Go and wash your hands; 
they are frightfully dirty. ” 

“ It's clean dirt, mother. I stopped on the beach to help 
Tom Darner to build up a sand fort. ” 

“ Why did Miss North let you?” 

“ Oh, I was by myself! I don't want any one to take care 
of me,” said Cecil, proudly. 

“ Good heavens! do you let the child walk about alone?” 
cried Mrs. Ormonde, with an air of surprise and indignation. 

“ Run away to Miss North,” said Katherine, and as Cecil 
left the room she replied: “ As Cecil is nine years old, Ada, 
and a very bright boy, I think he may very well be let to take 
care of himself. The school is not far, and he cau not learn 
independence too soon.” 

“ Perhaps so. But of course you know better than I do. 
You were always more learned, and all that; besides, you are 
not overanxious, as a mother would be.” 

“ Nor careless either,” said Katherine, thinking of tho 
nights at Castleford when she used to steal to the bedside of 
little feverish, restless Charlie, while his mother kept within 
the bounds of her own luxurious chamber. 

“ No, no; certainly not,” returned Mrs. Ormonde, remem- 
bering it was as well not to offend so strong a person as she 
felt Katherine to be. “ Only Cecil is a tiresome, self-willed 
boy, and very likely to get into mischief.” 

“ If you wish it, Ada, I shall, of course, have him escorted 
to and from the school.” 

“ Oh, just as you like. 1 suppose you know the place bet- 
ter than I do.” 

“ Colonel Ormonde has never come down to see me,” re- 
sumed Katherine, after a pause. “ You must tell him I am 
quite hurt.” 

“ Well, dear, you must know that 'Duke is rather vexed 
with you.” 

“ Vexed with me! Why?” asked Katherine, opening her 
eyes. 

“You see, he thinks you ^ught to have come to us for 
awhile; and then De Burgh came back from this last time in 
such a bad temper that my husband thought you were not be- 
having well to him — making a fool of him, in short; inviting 
him down here to amuse yourself, and then refusing him, if 
you did refuse.” 

“ No, I did not, for Mr. De Burgh never gave me ah oppor- 
tunity,” cried Katherine, indignantly. “ Nor did I ever ask 


A CROOKED PATH. 


233 


him here. I can not prevent his coming and lodging at the 
hotel. I am quite ready to talk to him, because he amuses 
me, but I am not bound to marry every man who does. Tell 
Colonel Ormonde so, with my compliments.” 

“ I am sure I don't want you to marry De Burgh! Indeed, 
I am surprised at 'Duke; but you see, being chums and rela- 
tions (and men stick together so), that he only thinks of De 
Burgh, who, entre nous , has been awfully fast. T He is amus- 
ing, and very distingue , but I am afraid he only cares for your 
money, dear. ” 

“ Very likely,” returned Katherine, with much composure. 

“Then another- reason why the colonel does not care to 
come down is that he has a great dislike to that Miss Payne. 
She is really hostess here, and it worries 'Duke to have to be 
civil to her . 99 

“ Why ?” r asked Katherine. “ I can imagine her being an 
object of perfect indifference; but dislike — no!” 

“ Well, dear, men never like that sort of women; people, 
you know, who eke out their living by — doing things, when 
they are plain and old. Handsome adventuresses are quite 
another affair — they are amusing and attractive. '' 

“ How absurd and unreasonable!” 

“ Yes, of course; they are all like that. Then he thinks 
Miss Payne has a bad and dangerous influence on you. He 
disapproves of your living on with her, for you don't take the 
position you ought, and — " 

Katherine laughed good - humoredly as Mrs. Ormonde 
paused, not knowing very well how to finish her speech. 
“ Colonel Ormonde will hide the light of his countenance 
from me, then, I am afraid, for a long time; for 1 like Miss 
Payne, and I am going to stay with her for the period agreed 
upon; and I will not marry Mr. De Burgh, ifcr will 1 let him 
ask me to do so, for there is a degree of honesty about him 
which I like. You may repeat all this to your husband, Ada, 
and add that but for a lucky chance his wife and myself would 
have been among the sort of women who eke out their living 
by doing things. I don't think I should be -afraid of attempt- 
ing self-support if all my money were swept away.” 

“ Don't talk of such a* thing!” cried Mrs. Ormonde, turn- 
ing pale. “ Thank God what you have settled on the boys is 
safe!” 

Katherine's half - contemptuous good -humor carried her 
serenely through this rather irritating visit, but the totally 
different train of thought which it evoked assisted her to re- 
cover her ordinary mental tone. It was, however, touched by 


234 


A CROOKED PATH. 


a minor key of sadness, of humility (save when roused by any 
moving cause to indignation), which gave the charm of soft 
pensiveness to her manner. 

Mrs. Ormonde was rather in a hurry to go back to town, as • , r 
she had important interviews impending with milliner and 
dress-maker prior to a visit to Lady Mary Vincent at Cowes, 
from which she expected the most brilliant results, for the lit- 
tle womaAV social ambition grew with what it fed upon. Nor 
did the rational repose of Katherine’s life suit her. Books, 
music, out-door existence, were a weariness, and in spite of her 
loudly declared affection for her sister-in-law she found a 
curious restraint in conversing with her. 

They parted, therefore, with many kind expressions and 
much satisfaction. 

“ I will write you an account of all our doings at Cowes. I ' 
expect it will be very gay and pleasant there. How I wish 
you were to be of the party, instead of moping here!” said 
Mrs. Ormonde. 

“ Thank you. I should like it all, no doubt, but not just 
now. 1 will keep you informed of our small doings.” 

So Mrs. Ormonde steamed on her way rejoicing, and Kath- 
erine re-entered a pretty low pony-carriage in which she drove 
a pair of quiet, well-broken ponies, selected for her by Bertie 
Payne, whose, con version had not obliterated his carnal knowl- 
edge of horseflesh. A small groom always accompanied her, 
for though improved by the practice of driving, she did not 
like to be alone with her steeds. 

She had nearly reached the chief street of Sandbourne, when 
a tall gentleman in yachting dress strolled slowly round the 
corner of a lane which led to the beach. He paused and 
raised his hat. ^She recognized De Burgh and drew up. 

“ And so you are driving in capital style,” was his greeting; 

“ all by yourself, too. Wiil you give me a lift back?” 

“ Certainly. Where have you come from?” 

“ Melford’s yacht. I escorted my revered relative, old De 
Burgh, down to Cowes. He has a little villa there. As he 
has grown quite civil of late, I think it right to encourage him. 
Melford was there, and invited me to take a short cruise. So 
1 made him land me here just now. The yacht is still in the 
offing. Lady Alice was on board.” 

“ Indeed!” exclaimed Katherine, with much interest. 

“ How is she?” 

“ So far as one can judge from the exterior, remarkably 
well, and exactly the same as ever. It is rather funny, but 
they had llenshaw on board too, the son of the big brewer who 


A CROOKED PATH. 


235 


lias bought, or is going to buy, Errington's house in Berkeley 
Square. I fancy it is not impossible he may come in for Er- 
rington's ex-fiancee as well as his ex-residence.” 

“ It can not be, surely!” cried Katherine, flushing with a 
curious feeling. 

“ Why not? I don't say immediately. I have no doubt 
everything will be done decently and in order.” 

“ Well, it is incomprehensible.” 

“ Not to me. What can — (Make that little brute on the 
off-side keep up to the collar. You want a few lessons from 
me still.) What can a- girl like Lady Alice do? She is an 
earl's daughter. She can not dig; to beg she is ashamed; she 
must therefore take to herself a husband from the mammon of 
unarisfocratic money-grubbers. ' ' 

“ I should like to meet her again — poor Lady Alice!” said 
Katherine, more to herself than to her companion. 

“ I think you are wasting your commiseration,” he re- 
turned. “ She seems quite happy.” 

“ She may be successful in hiding her feelings.” 

De Burgh laughed. 64 Tell me,” he asked, “ do you really 
think Errington is the sort of fellow women break their hearts 
about?” 

“ I can not tell. He seems to me very good and very nice.” 

“That is a goody-goody description. Well done!”' — as 
Katherine guided her ponies successfully through the gate of 
her abode and turned them round the gravel sweep. “I must 
say you have a pretty little nook here.” 

“ Had you arrived an hour sooner you would have seen Mrs. 
Ormonde. I have just seen her off by the 12:30 train. She 
has been paying us a farewell visit, and is gone to Lady Mary 
Vincent.” 

“ Indeed! She will have her cup of pleasure running over 
there; they live in a flutter of gayety all day long.” 

Here De Burgh sprung to the ground and assisted Kath- 
erine to alight. 

“ Will you lunch with us?” she asked, an additional tinge 
of color mounting to her cheek; for she knew De Burgh was 
no favorite of Miss Payne, who was no doubt rejoicing at the 
prospect of repose and deliverance from their late guest, who 
generally managed to rub her hostess the wrong way. 

“ Y o\i are very kind. I shall be delighted.” 

While Katherine went ostensibly to put aside her hat — 
really to warn Miss Payne — De Burgh strolled into the draw- 
ing-room. How cool and fresh and sweet with abundant 
flowers it was! An air of refined homeliness about it, the 


236 


A CROOKED PATH. 


work and books and music on the open piano, spoke of well- 
occupied repose. Its simplicity was graceful, and indicated 
the presence of a cultured woman. 

De Burgh wandered to the window — a wide bay — and took 
from a table which stood in it a cabinet photograph of Kath- 
erine, taken about a year before. He was absorbed in con- 
templating it when she came in, and he made a step to meet 
her. “ This is very good,” he said. “ Where was it taken?” 

“ In Florence.” 

“ It is like ” — looking intently at her, and then at the pict- 
ure. “But you are changed in some indescribable way, 
changed since I saw you last, years ago — that is, a month — 
isn’t it a month since you drove me from paradise? — but yon 
don’t remember.” 

“ But, Mr. Pe Burgh, I did not drive you away. You got 
bored, and went away of your own free will.” 

“ I shall not argue the point with you — not now; but tell 
me,” with a very steady gaze into her eyes, “ has anything 
happened since 1 left to waken up your soul? It was by no 
means asleep when I saw you last, but it has met with an eye- 
opener of some kind, I am convinced.” 

“ 1 should not have given you credit for so much imagina- 
tion, Mr. De Burgh. ” 

Here Miss Payne made her appearance, and the boys fol- 
lowed. They were treated with unusual good humor and ’bon- 
homie by De Burgh, who actually took Charlie on his knee 
and asked him some questions about boating, which occupied 
them till lunch was announced. 4 

Miss Payne was too much accustomed to yield to circum- 
stances not to accept De Burgh’s attempts to be amiable and 
agreeable. He could be amusing when he chose; there was an 
odd abruptness, a candid avowal of his views and opinions, 
when he was in the mood, that rather attracted Katherine. 

“You aw a funny man!” said Cecil, after gazing at him 
in silence as he finished his repast. “ I wish you would come 
out in the boat with us. Auntie said we might go. ” 

“ Very well; ask her if I may come. ” 

“ He may, mayn’t he?” — chorus from both boys. 

“ Yes, if you really care to come; but do not let the chil- 
dren tease you.” 

“ Do you give me credit for being ready to do what I don’t 
like?” 

“ I can’t say I do.” 

“ When do you start on this expedition?” 

“About seven, which will interfere with your dinner, for 


A CROOKED PATH. 237 

Miss Payne and I have adopted primitive habits, and do not 
dine late; we indulge in high tea instead.” 

64 Nevertheless, I shall meet you at the jetty. Till then 
adieu.” 

44 May we come with you?” cried the boys together — 44 just 
as far as the hotel:” 

44 No, dears; you must stay at home,” said Katherine, de- 
cidedly. 

44 Then do let him come and see how the puppy is. He has 
grown quite big. ” 

44 Yes, IT1 come round to the kennel if you'll show me the 
way,” replied De Burgh, with a smiling glance at Katherine. 
44 Till this evening, then,” he added, and bowing to Miss 
Payne, left the room, the boys capering beside him. 

44 1 should say that man has breakfasted on honey this 
morning,” observed Miss Payne, with a sardonic smile. 4k Does 
he think that he has only to come, to see, and to conquer?” 

44 He has been quite pleasant,” said Katherine. 44 1 won- 
der why he is not always nice? He used to be almost rude at 
Castleford sometimes.” She paused, while Miss Payne rose 
from the table and began to lock away the wine. 44 1 wonder 
what has become of Mr. Payne? He has not been here for a 
long time. ” 

4 ‘ What made you think of him?” asked his sister, sharply. 

44 1 suppose the force of contrast reminded me of him. 
What a difference between Bertie and Mr. De Burgh !-^=your 
brother living only to help others, and utterly forgetful of self; 
he regardless of everything but the gratification of his own 
fancies — at least so far as we can see.” 

44 Yds; Mr. De Burgh can hardly be termed a true Christian. 
Still, Gilbert is rather too weak and credulous. I suspect he 
is very often taken in.” 

44 Is it not better he should be sometimes, dear Miss Payne, 
than that some poor deserving creature should perish for want 
of help?” 

44 .Well, I don't know. Self-preservation is the first law of 
nature, and if that law were more carefully obeyed, fewer 
would need help. ” 

44 Life is an unsol vable problem,” said Katherine, and the 
remark reminded her of her humble friend Rachel. She 
therefore sat down and wrote her a kind, sympathetic letter, 
feeling some compunction for having allowed so long an in- 
terval to elapse since her last. 

Her own troubles had occupied her too much. Now that 
time was beginning to accustom her to their weight, her deep 


A CKOOKED PATH. 


238 

interest in Rachel revived even with more than its original 
force. Katherine did not make intimates readily. Let there 
be ever so small a nook in the mind, ever so tiny an incident 
in the past, which must be hidden from all eyes, and there can 
be no free pass for outsiders, however dear or valued, to the 
sanctum of the heart, which must remain sealed, a whisper- 
ing gallery for its own memories and aspirations. But Rachel 
Trant never dreamed of receiving confidence, nor, after once 
having strung herself up to tell her sad story, did she allude 
to her bitter past, save by an occasional word expressing her 
profound sense of the new life she owed to Katherine; nor did 
the latter, when talking, with her face to face, ever realize that 
there was any social difference between them. Rachel's voice, 
manner, diction, and natural refinement were what might be 
expected from a gentlewoman, only that through all sounded 
a strain of harsh strength, the echo of that fierce despair ‘from 
whose grip the tender consideration of her new friend had de- 
livered her. The evening’s sail was very tranquil and sooth- 
ing. Be Burgh was agreeable in the best way; that is, he 
was sympathetrcally silent, except when Katherine spoke to 
him. The boys and their governess sat together in the bows 
of the boat, where they talked merrily together, occasionally 
running aft to ask more profound questions of De Burgh and 
auntie. Fear of rheumatism and discomfort generally kept 
Miss Payne at home on these occasions. 

De Burgh walked with Miss Liddell to her own door, but 
wisely refused to enter. “ No," he mused, as he proceeded 
to his hotel; “ I have had enough of a solitude a trots . It’s 
an uncomfortable, tantalizing thing, and though I have been 
positively angelic for the last seven or eight hours, I can’t 
stand any more intercourse under Miss Payne’s paralyzing 
optics. 1 wonder if any fellow can keep up a heavenly calm 
for more than twenty-four hours? Depends on the circulation 
of the blood. I wonder still more if it is possible that Kath- 
erine is more disposed to like me than she was? She is some- 
how different than when I was here last. So divinely soft and 
kind! I have known a score or two of fascinating women, and 
gone wild about a good many, but this is different. Why the 
deuce should she not love me? Most of the others did. Why? 
God knows. I’ll try my luck; she seems in a propitious 
mood." 


A CROOKED PATH. 


239 


‘ CHAPTER XXI. 

“ NO.” 

Next morning’s post brought a letter from Bertie, which 
was a kind of complement to Katherine’s reflections of the 
night before. After explaining that he had hitherto been un- 
able to take a holiday from his various avocations, he promised 
to spend the following week with his sister and Miss Liddell. 
He then described the success of Mrs. Needham’s bazaar, and 
proceeded thus: 

“ Meeting my old friend Mrs. Dodd a few days ago, I was 
sorry to find from her that your favorite* Rachel Trant, has 
been very unwell. She had had a great deal of work, thanks 
to your kind efforts on her behalf, and sat at it early and late; 
then she took cold. I went to see her, and found her in a 
state of extreme depression, like that from which you succeeded 
in rousing her. I think it would be well if she could have a 
little change. Are there any cheap, humble lodgings at Sand- 
bourne, where she might pass a week or two? I shall leave 
this matter in your hands.” 

“I am sure old Norris’s wife would take her in. They 
have a nice cottage, almost on the beach, close to the point.” 

“ No doubt. Really that Rachel of yours is in great luck. 
I wonder how many poor girls in London are dying for a 
breath of sea air?” 

“ Ay, hundreds, I fear. But then, you see, they have not 
been brought under my notice, and Rachel has; so I will do 
the best 1 can for her. I am sure she is no common woman.” 

“ At all events she has no opmmon luck.” 

Katherine lost no time in visiting Mrs. Norris, and found 
that she was in the habit of letting a large, low, but comfort- 
able room upstairs, where the bed was gorgeous with a patch- 
work quilt of many colors, and permitting her lodgers to dine 
in a small parlor, which was her own sitting-room. 

The old woman had not had any “ chance ” that season, as 
she termed it, and gladly agreed to take the young person 
recommended by her husband’s liberal employer. So Kath- 
erine walked back to write both to Bertie and her protegee. 

During her absence De Burgh had called, but left no mes- 
sage. And Katherine felt a little sorry to have missed him, 
as she thought it probable he would go on to town that after- 
noon, and she wanted to hear some tidings of Errington, yet 
could hardly nerve herself to ask. 


240 


A CBOOKED PATH. 


The evening was* gloriously fine, and as Miss Payne did not 
like boating, the pony-carriage was given up to her, the boys, 
and Miss North the governess, for a long drive to a farm-house 
where the boys enjoyed rambling about, and Miss Payne 
bought new-laid eggs. 

When they had set out, Katherine took a white woolen 
shawl over her arm — for even in July the breeze was some- 
times chill at sundown — and strolled along the road, or rather 
cart track, which led between the cliffs and the sea to the 
boatman*s cottage. She passed this, nodding pleasantly to 
the sturdy old man, who was busy in his cabbage garden, and 
pursued a path which led as far as a footing could be found, 
to where the sea washed against the point. It; was a favorite 
spot with Katherine, who was tolerably sure of being ‘undis- 
turbed here. The view across the bay was tranquilly beauti- 
ful; the older part of Sandbourne only, with the pretty old 
inn, was visible from her rocky seat among the bowlders and 
debris which had fallen from above, while the old tower at the 
opposite point of the bay stood out black and solid against the 
flood of gqlden light behind it. She sat there very still, enjoy- 
ing the air, the scene, the sweet salt breath of the sea, think- 
ing intently of Rachel Trant’s experience, of her fatal weak- 
ness, of the unpitying severity of that rule of law under which 
we social atoms are constrained to live; of the evident fact that 
were we but wise and good we might always be the beneficent 
arbiters of our own fate; that there are few pleasures which 
have not their price; and after all, though she, Katherine, 
had paid high for hers, it had not cost too much, considering 
she had been groping in the dimness of imperfect knowledge. 
Oh, how she wished she had never attempted to act providence 
to her mother and herself, but. trusted to Errington*s sense of 
generosity and justice! Of course it would have been humiliat- 
ing to beg from a stranger, yet before that stranger she had 
been compelled to lower herself to the dust, and — 

The unwonted sound of approaching feet startled her. She 
turned, to see De Burgh within speaking distance. “ I am 
like Robinson Crusoe in my solitude here/* she said, smiling. 

I turn pale at the sound of an unexpected step, as he did at 
the print of Friday* s foot.** 

“ And to continue the simile/* he returned, leaning against 
a rock near her, “ the foot-print or step, as in Crusoe*s case, 
only announces the advent of a devoted slave.** He spoke 
lightly, and Katherine scarce noticed what seemed to her an 
idle compliment. 

“ I fancied you had gone to town/* she said. 


A CROOKED PATH. 


241 


u No; 1 am not going to town; I don’t know or care where 
I am going. Some kind friends might say I am on my way to 
the dogs. ” 

“ 1 hope not/’ said Katherine, gravely. “ I imagine, Mr. 
De Burgh, that if you had some object of ambition — ” 

“ 1 should become an Admirable Crichton? I don’t think 
so. There are such dreary pauses in the current of 41 II 
careers!” 

44 Of course. You would not live in a tornado?” 

“I’m not so sure” — laughing. “At all events I shall 
never be satisfied with still life like our friend Errington.” 

“ Do you know anything of him? Mrs. Ormonde never 
mentions his name . 99 

“ Of course not; when a fellow can’t keep pace with his 
peers, away with him, crucify him.” 

“ As long as a few special friends are true — ” 

“If they are,” interrupted De Burgh; and Katherine did 
not resume, hoping he would continue the theme, which he 
did, saying: “ He has left his big house, gone into chambers 
somewhere, and has, I believe, taken up literature, politics, 
and social subjects. So Lady Mary Vincent says. I fancy he 
is a clever fellow in a cast-iron style.” 

“ What a change for him!” 

“ 1 believe there was something coming to him out of the 
wreck, and I think he is a sort of man who will float. I never 
liked him myself, chiefly, I fancy, because I know he doesn’t 
like me. Indeed, 1 don’t care for people in general. ” There 
was a pause, during which Katherine glanced at her compan- 
ion, and was struck by his somber expression, the stern com- 
pression of his lips. 

“ Did you call at the cottage?” she asked. 

“ No; you were out this morning, and 1 did not like to in- 
trude again,” he laughed. “ Growing modest in my sere and 
yellow days, you see; so I thought I should perhaps find you 
here, as I saw your numerous party drive past the hotel. ” 

“ I like this corner, and often come here. But, Mr. De 
Burgh, you. look as if the times were out of joint.” 

“ So they are ” — suddenly seating himself on a flat stone 
nearly at Katherine’s feet, leaning his elbow on another, and 
resting his head on his hand, so as to look up easily in her 
face. 

“ What gloomy dark eyes he has!” she thought. 

“ I should like to tell you why,” he went on. 

“ Very well,” returned Katherine, who felt a little uneasy. 

“ I am pretty considerably in debt, to begin with. If I paid 


242 


A CROOKED PATH. 


up 1 should have about three half-pence a year to live on. Be- 
sides my debts I have an unconscionably ancient relative whose 
title and a beggarly five thousand a year must come to me when 
he dies, if he ever dies. This venerable impediment has some 
hundred or more thousands which he can bequeath to whom 
he likes. Hitherto he has not considered me a credit to the 
family. Well, I went to him the other day, on his own invita- 
tion, and to my amazement he offered to pay my debts— on 
one condition/’ 

“ I do hope he will,” cried Katherine, as De Burgh paused. 
She was quite interested and relieved by the tone of his narra- 
tive. 

“ Ay, there’s the rub. I can’t fulfill the condition, 1 fear. 
It is that I should marry a woman rich enough to replace the 
money my debts will absorb; a particular woman, who doesn’t 
care for me, and whom, knowing the hideous tangle of motives 
that hangs round the central idea of winning her, I am almost 
ashamed to ask; but a woman that any man might court; a 
woman I have loved from the first moment my eyes met hers, 
who has haunted and distracted me ever since, and who is, I 
dare say, a great deal too good for me; but a creature I will 
strive to win, no matter what the cost of success. This girl, 
or rather (for there is a richness and ripeness of nature about 
her which deserves the term) this fair, sweet woman — I need 
not name her to you.” He stopped, and his passionate plead- 
ing eyes held hers. Katherine grew white, half with fear, half 
with sincere compassion. She tried to speak. At last the 
words came. 

“ You make me terribly sad, Mr. De Burgh,” she said, with 
trembling lips. “ You make me so sorry that I can not marry 
you; but i can not — indeed I can not. Will Lord de Burgh 
not pay your debts if he knows you have done your best to 
persuade me to marry you?” 

De Burgh laughed a cynical laugh. “ You are infinitely 
practical, Katherine. (I am going to call you Katherine for 
the next few minutes. Because 1 think of you as Katherine, 
I love to speak your name to yourself; it seems to bring me a 
little nearer to you.) Listen to me. Don’t you think you 
could endure me as a husband? 1 am a better fellow than I 
seem, and mine is no foolish boy’s fancy. 1 am a better man 
when 1 am near you. Then this old cousin of mine will leave 
me all he possesses if you are my wife, and the Baroness de 
Burgh, with money enough to keep her place among her 
peers, would have no mean position; nor is a husband passion* 
ately devoted to you unworthy of consideration.” 


A CROOKED PATH. 


243 


“ It is not indeed. But, Mr. De Burgh, do you honestly 
think that devotion would last? These violent feelings often 
work their own destruction. ” 

“ Ay; God knows they do, amazingly fast,” he returned, 
with a sigh and a far-away look. “ But what you say applies 
to all men. If you ever marry you must run the risk of in- 
constancy in the man you accept. I am at least old enough 
and experienced enough to value a good woman when I have 
found one, especially when she does not make her goodness a 
bore. And you — you have inspired me with something differ- 
ent from anything I have ever felt before. Yes, yes,” he 
went on, angrily, as he noticed a slight smile on her lips. “ I 
see you try to treat this as only the stereotype talk of a lover 
who wants your money more than yourself; but if you listen 
to the judgment of your own heart, it is true and honest 
enough to recognize truth in another, and it will tell you that, 
whatever my faults (and they are legion), sneaking and 
duplicity are not among them. It is quite true that when 
first I heard of you I thought your fortune would be just the 
thing to put me right, as 1 have no doubt my dear friend Mrs. 
Ormonde has impressed upon you; but from the moment 1 
first spoke to you I felt, I knew, there was something about 
you different from other women. 1 also knew that in the 
effort to win the heiress I was heavily handicapped by the sud- 
den strong passion for the woman which seized me.” 

“ That surely ought to have been a means of success?” said 
Katherine, a good deal interested in his account of himself. 

“ Ko; it made me, for the first time in my life, hesitating, 
self-distrustful, and awfully disgusted at having to take your 
money into consideration. Had you been an ordinary woman, 
ready to exchange your fortune for the social position I could 
give my wife, and perhaps with a certain degree of liking for 
the kind of free-lance reputation I am told I possess, I should 
have carried my point, and presented the future Baroness de 
Burgh to my venerable kinsman months ago.” 

> “ And suppose the unfortunate heiress had been a soft- 
hearted, simple girl?” said Katherine, with a slight faltering 
in her tones. 46 Suppose she were credulous, loving, attracted 
by you — you are probably attractive to some women — and 
married you believing in your disinterested affection?” 

De Burgh, who had risen from his half-recumbent position, 
and stood leaning against a larger fragment of rock, paused 
before he replied: 46 1 think that I am gentleman enough 
not to be a brute, but I rather believe a woman of the type 
you describe would not have a blissful existence with me. ” 


244 


A CROOKED PATH. 


“ I am sure of it. You are quite capable of making the life 
of such a woman too dreadful to think of. ** She shuddered 
slightly. 

De Burgh looked curiously at her. “ If you will have the 
goodness to undertake my punishment/* he said, “ by marry- 
ing me without love, aiid letting me prove how earnestly I 
could serve you and strive to win it, 1*11 strike the bargain this 
moment. I have been reckless and unfortunate. Now give 
me a chance; for I do love you, Katherine. I*d love you if 
you were the humblest of undowered women. * r 

The tears stood in her eyes, for the passion and feeling in 
his voice struck home to her. 

“ 1 believe it,** she said, softly, 66 and I am almost sorry I 
can not love you. But I do not, nor do 1 think I ever could. 
You will find others quite as likely to draw forth your affection 
as I am. But there are some natural barriers of disposition, 
and — oh, I can not define what — which hold us apart. Yet I 
am interested in you, and would like to know you were happy. 
Yet, Mr. De Burgh, 1 must not sacrifice my life to you. If 1 
did, the result might not be satisfactory even to yourself.** 

•“ Sacrifice your life! What an unflattering expression!** 
cried De Burgh, with a hard laugh. “ So there is no hope for 
me?** 

Katherine shook her head. 

“ I felt there was but little when I began, * ; he said, as if to 
himself. “ Tell me, are you free? Has some more fortunate 
fellow than myself touched that inrpregnable heart of yours? 

‘ I know I have no right to ask such a question.** 

“ You have not indeed, Mr. De Burgh. And if I could not 
with truth say 6 no,* I should be vexed with you for asking it. 
Weighted as I am with money enough to excite the greed of 
ordinary struggling men, I shall not be in a hurry to renounce 
my comfortable independence.** 

De Burgh*s eyes again held hers with a look of entreaty. 
“ That independence will last just as long as your heart escapes 
the influence of the man whom you will love one day; for 
though love lies sleeping, it is in you, and will spring to life 
some time, all the stronger and more irresistible because his 
birth has not come early. Then you will feel more for me 
than you do now.** 

“ I do feel for you, Mr. De Bftrgh ** — raising her moist eyes 
to his. 

“Thank you** — taking her hand and kissing it. “Will 
you, then, be my friend, and promise not to banish me? 1*11 
be sensible, and give you no trouble.** 


A CROOKED PATH. 


245 


“ Oh, yes, certainly/' ’ said Katherine, glad to be able to 
comfort him in any way; and she withdrew her hand. 

“ I am not going to worry you with my presence now,” he 
continued. “ I shall say good-bye for the present. I am 
going away north. I have entered a horse for a big steeple- 
chase at Barton Towers, and will ride him myself. If I win I 
can hold out awhile longer. You must wish me success.” 

“ 1 am sure I do, heartily. After this, do give up racing.” 

“Very well. But” — pressing her hand hard — “I’ll tell 
you what I will not give up, my hope of winning you , until 
you are married to some one else and out of my reach.” 

He kissed her hand again, and then, without any further 
adieu, turned away, walking with long swift steps toward the 
town, not once looking back. 

“ Thank God he is gone!” was Katherine’s mental exclama- 
tion as the sound of his footfall died away. She was troubled 
by his intensity and determination, and touched by his un- 
mistakable sincerity. “ If I loved him I should not be afraid 
to marry him. I think he might possibly make a good hus- 
band to a woman he was really attached to; but I have not the 
least spark of affection for him, though there is something 
very distinguished in his figure and bearing; even his rugged- 
ness is perfectly free from vulgarity. Yes, he is a sort of man 
who might fascinate some women; but he is terribly wrong- 
headed. If he keeps hoping on until 1 marry, he has a long 
spell of celibacy before him. I dare say he will be married 
himself before two years are over.” 

She sat awhile longer thinking, her face growing softer and 
sadder. Then she rose, wrapped her shawl round her, and 
walked slowly back to the cottage, where she found the rest of 
the party just returned, joyous and hungry. 

Bertie , came down late on the following Saturday, and 
brought a note from Rachel Trant to Katherine, accepting 
her offer of quarters at Sandbourne with grateful readiness. 
Katherine was always pleased with her letters; they expressed 
so much in a few words; a spirit of affectionate gratitude 
breathed through their quiet diction. 

Katherine was very glad to receive it, for Bertie’s accounts 
of their protegee made her uneasy. She had at first refused 
to move, saying it was really of no use spending mon^y upon 
her, and seemed to be sinking back into the lethargic condi- 
tion from whith Katherine had woke her. 

Her kind protectress therefore set off early on Monday to 
tell Mrs. Norris she was coming, and to make her room look 


246 


A CROOKED RATH. 


pretty and cheerful. By her orders the boatman’s son was 
dispatched to meet their expectant tenant on her arrival, Miss 
Payne having arranged a picnic for that day, at which Kath- 
erine’s company could not be dispensed with. 

When they returned it was already evening; still Katherine 
could mot refrain from visiting her friend. “ She will be so 
strange and lonely with people she has never seen before,” she 
said to Bertie. “ As soon as tea is over I shall go and see 
her.” 

“ It will be rather late, yet it will be a great kindness. I 
will go with you, and wait for you among the rocks on the 
beach. ” 

Miss Payne expressed her opinion that it was unwise to set 
beggars oo horseback, but offered no further opj3osition. 

The sun had not quite sunk as Katherine and her compan- 
ion walked leisurely by the road which skirted the beach toward 
the boatman’s dwelling. 

“1 wish we could find some occupation that could so fill 
Eachel Trant’s mind as to prevent these dreadful fits of de- 
pression,” began Katherine. 

“ She had plenty of work, and seemed successful in her per- 
formance of it,” he returned; “ but it does not seem to have 
kept her from a recurrence of these morbid moods. Loneli- 
ness does not appear to suit her. ” 

“Sitting from morning till night, unremittingly at work, 
in silence, alone with memories which must be very sad, is not 
the best method of recovering cheerfulness, and unfortunately 
Eachel is too much above her station to make many friends in 
it. She wants movement as well as work,” remarked Kath- 
erine. 

“ As you consider her so good a dress-maker, it might be 
well to establish her on a larger scale, and give her some of 
the older girls from our Home as apprentices. Looking after 
and teaching them would amuse as well as occupy her. ” 

“ It is an idea worth developing!” exclaimed Katherine; 
and they walked on a few paces in silence. 

“ So De Burgh has been paying you a visit?” said Bertie at 
length. 

“ He has been paying Sandbourne a visit. He did not stay 
with us.” 

“ It is wonderful that he could tame his energies even to stay 
here a few days. ” 

“ He was here only two days the last time.” 

“ You can not have much in common with such a man.” 


A CROOKED PATH. 247 

“ Not much, certainly; sfcill, he interests me. He has had 
such a narrow escape of being a good man . 99 

“ Narrow escape! I should say he never was in much dan- 
ger of that destiny . 99 

“ Perhaps if the door of every heart were opened to us we 
should see more good in all than we could expect.” A few 
words more brought them to the boatman’s house, where they 
parted. 

Miss Trant was at home, Mrs. Norris said. Katherine as- 
cended the steep ladder-like stair, and having knocked at the 
door, entered the room. Rachel was seated in the window, 
which was wide open. Her elbows rested on a small table, and 
her chin on her clasped hands, while her large blue eyes looked 
steadily out over the bay, which slept blue and peaceful below; 
the lines of her slightly bent figure looked graceful and re- 
fined, but there was infinite sadness in her pose. 

“ I am very glad to see you again,” said Katherine. Ra- 
chel, who was too deep in thought to hear her enter, started 
up to clasp her offered hand. Her pale thin face was lighted 
with pleasure, and her grave, almost stern eyes softened! 

“And so am I. You do not know hoto glad. Do you 
know, I began to think I never should see you again,” and 
she kissed the hand she held. 

“Do not!” said Katherine, bending forward to kiss her 
brow. “ Were you so ill, then?” 

“ Not physically ill, except for my cough; but for all that I 
felt dying, and really I often wondered why you try to keep 
me alive. 1 am a trouble to you, and I do very little good. 
Had I not been a coward 1 should have left the world, where 
I have no particular place, long ago.” 

“ Well, you see, I have a sort of superstition that life is a 
goodly gift which must not be cast aside for a whim; and why 
should you despair of finding peace? There is so much that is 
delightful in life!” 

“ And so' much that is tragic!” 

“ Ah, yes! but if we only seek for the sorrowful we destroy 
our own lives, without helping any one. You must let the 
dead past buy its dead.” 

“ How if the dead past comes and crosses your path, and 
Jooks you in the face?” 

“ What do you mean, Rachel?” 

“ You will think me weak and contemptible, but I must 
confess to you the cause of my late prostration. ” 

“ Yes, do; it may be a relief.” 

“ About a month ago,” said Rachel, sitting down by the 


248 


A CROOKED PATH. 


table opposite Katherine, and again resting her elbow on it, 
while she half hid her face by placing her open hand 
over her eyes, “I was walking, to Mrs. Needham’s with 
some work I had finished, when, turning into Lowndes 
Square, 1 came face to face with — him. It is true I had a 
thick veil on, and my large parcel must have partially dis- 
guised me, but he did not recognize me. He passed me 
with the most unconscious composure, and he was looking 
better, brighter, than I had ever seen him. The sight of him 
brought back all the torturing pangs of helpless sorrow for the 
sweetness, the intense happiness I can never know again; the 
stinging • shame, the poison of crushed hopes, the profound 
contempt for myself, the sense of being of no value to any one 
on earth. I think if 1 could have spoken to you , I might have 
shaken off these fiends of thought;, but I was alone, always 
alone: why should I live? 5 ' 

“ Rachel, you must put this cruel man out of your mind. 
He has been the destroyer of your life. Try and cast the idea 
of the past from you. Life is too abundant to be exhausted 
by one sorrow. You have years before you in which to build 
up a new existence and find consolation. 1 will not listen to 
another word about your former life; let us look only forward. 
I have a plan for you — at least Mr. Payne has suggested the 
idea — in which you can help us and others, and which will need 
all your time and energy. But I will not even talk of this 
business. We must try lighter and pleasanter topics. Not 
another word about by-gone days will I speak. You have 
* started afresh under my auspices, and I mean you to float. 
Now that you are here, Rachel, you must read amusing books, 
and be out in the open air all day. You will be a new creat- 
ure in a week. You must come and see my cottage and my 
nephews; they are dear little fellows. Are you fond of chil- 
dren?” 

“ I don't think I am. I never had anything to do with 
them. But I would rather not go to your house, dear Misp 
Liddell. I feel as if I could not brave Miss Payne's eyes.” 

“ That is mere morbidness. There is no reason why you 
should fear any one. You must discount your future rights. 
A few years hence, when you are a new woman, you will, I 
am sure, look back with wonder and pity as if reading the 
memoir of another. I know that spells of self-forgiveness 
come to us mercifully.'' 

“ When I listen to you, and hear in the tones of your voice 
more even than in your words that you are my friend, that 
you really care for me, that it will be a real joy to you to see 


A CROOKED PATH. 


249 


me rise above myself,, I feel that I can live and strive and be 
something more than a galvanized corpse. You give me 
strength. I wonder if I shall ever be able to prove to you 
what you have done for me. Stand by me, and 1 will try to 
put the past under my feet. I do not wish to presume on the 
great goodness you have shown me nor to forget the dilference 
between us socially, but oh! let me believe you love me — even 
me — with the kindly affection that can forgive even while it 
blames.” 

■‘Be assured of that, Rachel,” cried Katherine, her eyes 
moist and beautiful with the divine light of kindness and sym- 
pathy, as she stretched out her hand to clasp Rachel’s. 66 1 
have from the first been drawn to you strangely — it is something 
instinctive — and 1 have firm belief in your future, if you will 
but believe in yourself. You are a strong, brave woman, who 
can dare to look truth in the face. You will be useful and 
successful yet.” 

Rachel held her hand tightly for a minute in silence; then 
she said, in a low but firm voice: “ I will try to realize your 
belief. I should be too unwoTthy if I failed to do my very 
best. There! I have discarded the past; you shall hear of it 
no more.” 

They were silent for awhile; then a solemn old eight-day 
clock with a fine tone struck loudly and deliberately in the 
room below. Katherine, with a smile, counted each stroke. 
“Nine!” she exclaimed, when the last had sounded; “ and 
though it is 9 p. m., let it be the first hour of your new life.” 
She rose, and passing her arm over RacheTs shoulder, kissed 
her once more with sisterly warmth. “ Mr. Payne is waiting 
for me, so 1 must leave you. I have sent you some books; 1 
have but few here. One will amuse you, 1 am sure, though it 
is old enough — a translation of the ‘ Memoirs of Madame 
d’Abrantes.’ It is full of such quaint pictures of the great 
Napoleon’s court, and does not display much dignity or no- 
bility, yet it is an honest sort of book.” 

4 ‘ Thank you. I don’t want novels now; they generally 
le. But my greatest solace is to forget myself in a 



Bertie Payne’s visit was a very happy one. The boys adored 
him, and subjects of discussion and difference of opinion never 
failed between Katherine and himself. She consulted him as 
to what school would be best for Cecil, and he advised that he 
should be left as a boarder at the one, which he now attended, 
and where he had made fair progress, when Miss Payne and 
Katherine returned to town. 


250 


A CROOKED PATH. 


Bertie looked a new man when he bade them good-bye, 
promising to come again soon. 

Beyond sending a newspaper which recorded his victory in 
the Barton Towers steeple-chase, De Burgh made no sign, and 
life ran smoothly in its ordinary grooves at Sandbourne. 

Bachel Trant revived marvelously. The change of scene, 
the fresh salt sea air, above all the society of Katherine, who 
frequently visited and walked with her, all combined to give 
her new life — even emboldening her to look at the future. 
Her manner, always grave and respectful, won reluctant ap- 
proval from Miss Payne. And the boys were always pleased 
to run to the boatman’s cottage with flowers or fruit, and talk 
to, or rather question, their new friend. Bachel seemed 
always glad to see them, though she evidently shrunk from re- 
turning their visits. She was never quite herself, or off guard, 
except whefl. alone with Katherine. Then she spoke out of 
her heart, and uttered thoughts and opinions which often sur- 
prised Katherine,* and set her thinking more seriously than she 
had ever done before. Finally, hearing from her good old 
landlady that some of her customers had returned to town and 
were inquiring for her, Bachel said it was time her holiday 
came to an end. 

“ I feel now that I can bear to live and try to be indepen- 
dent. Indeed, my life is yours; you have given it back to me, 
and I will yet prove to you that 1 am not unworthy of your 
wonderful generosity,” she said, the morning of the day she 
was to start for London, as she sat with Katherine among the 
rocks at the point. 6 6 The idea of an establishment such as 
Mr. Payne suggested is excellent. It ought to be your prop- 
erty, and good property — I need only be your steward — while 
it may be of great use to others. ” 

“ I feel quite impatient to carry out the project, and we will 
set about it as soon as I return to town,” returned Katherine. 

“ Will you write to me sometimes?” asked Bachel, hum- 
bly. “ 1 feel as if I dare not let you go; all of hope or 
promise that can come into my wrecked life centers in you. 
While you are my friend, I can face the world. ” 

“ Yes, Bachel, write to me as often as you like, and I will 
answer your letters. Trust me; I will always be your friend.” 


CHAPTEB XXII. 

“warp akd woof.’’ 

When - the rough weather of a stormy autumn obliged 
Katherine to keep in doors, she began to feel the monotony of 


A CROOKED PATH. 


251 


existence by the sad sea waves, and to wish for the sociability 
of London. The end of October, then, saw Miss Payne and 
party re-established in Wilton Street, having left Cecil at 
school. With Charlie, Katherine could not part just yet. 
She intended to keep him till after Christmas, when he was 
to go to school with his brother. 

Though town was emtpy as regarded 44 society,” there was 
plenty of life and movement in the streets, and Katherine, 
always thankful for occupation which drew her thoughts away 
from her profound regret for the barrier which existed be- 
tween Errington and herself, was glad to be back in the great 
capital. She threw herself into the scheme of establishing 
Rachel Trant as a 44 court dress-maker ” most heartily, and 
Bertie Payne spared time from his multifarious avocations to 
give important assistance. Rachel herself, too, proved to be 
a wise counselor, her previous training having given her some 
experience in business. Katherine therefore found interesting 
employment in looking for a small house suited to the under- 
taking. 

Mr. Newton was writing busily in his private room one foggy 
afternoon when he was informed that Miss Liddell wished to 
speak to him. 

44 Show her in at once,” he said, cheerfully, as if pleased, 
and he rose to receive her. 44 Glad to see you. Miss Liddell, 
looking all the better for your sojourn by the sea-side. Why, 
it must be nearly six months since I saw you.” 

44 Yes, quite six months, Mr. Newton. I suppose you have 
been refreshing yourself too, after the fatigues of the season. 
You must try Sandbourne next year. It is a very nice little 
place.” 

44 Sandbourne? I don*t think 1 know it. But now what 
do you want, my dear young lady? 1 don*t suppose you come 
here merely for pleasure.” 

44 1 assure you it always gives me great pleasure,” said 
Katherine, with a sweet, sunny smile. 44 You have always 
been my very good friend. ” 

44 Well, a sincere one, at all events,” returned the dry old 
lawyer, whose aridity was not proof against the charm of his 
young client. 

44 1 must not waste your time,” she resumed, drawing her 
chair a little nearer the table behind which he was ensconced. 
44 1 want to buy a house which I have seen, and 1 want you to 
attend to all details connected with it.” 

44 Oh — ah! Well, a good house would not be a bad invest- 


252 


A CROOKED PATH. 


ment; it would be very convenient to have a residence in Lon- 
don.” 

“ It is not for myself; it is a speculation.” 

“ A speculation? What put that into your head?” 

Whereupon Katherine told him her story. 

“I think it is . rather a mad undertaking, ” was Mr. New- 
ton’s verdict. 4 4 These projects seldom succeed. I don’t care 
for clever, interesting young women who have no one belong- 
ing to them and can not corroborate their stories. How do 
you know she was not dismissed from Blackie & Co.’s for 
theft?” 

Katherine laughed. “ 1 certainly do not know,” she said, 
“ but I feel it is quite as impossible for her to steal as it is for 
myself.” 

“Feel! — feel!” (impatiently). “Just so; impostors thrive 
on the good feelings of — of the simple. ” 

“ You were going to say fools,” said Katherine. “ Don’t 
let us waste time, my dear Mr. Newton,” she went on, with 
good-humored decision. “We shall never agree on such a 
topic; and I am going to buy this house, or another of the 
same kind if this proves not to be desirable; and I should be 
very sorry to employ any one but you to arrange the pur- 
chase.” 

“ Oh, you know your own mind, and how to threaten — eh. 
Miss Liddell?” he returned, with a smile. “I must know 
more about the tenement before 1 can consent to act for you.” 

“It is an ordinary three-storied house, with a couple of 
rooms built out at the back, in a small street where there are 
a few shops; but it is near Westbourne Terrace, and therefore 
in a region of good customers. The late owner has been suc- 
ceeded by a son, who seems very anxious to get rid of it. The 
price asked is seven hundred and fifty pounds, and I believe 
the taxes are under ten pounds. Do, dear Mr. Newton, look 
into the matter, and get it settled as soon as possible, and on 
the best terms you can.” 

“ Hum! and the furniture? Do you undertake that too?” 

“ Of course. Don’t you see, I can do it all out of the 
money I have not been able to use. There is quite three thou- 
sand pounds on deposit in the bank. You know you wrote to 
me only a month ago about letting the money lie idle. I shall 
employ it now, for my protegee. Miss Trant, will be only my 
manager. I will pay her wages, and whatever profit after 
comes to me. ” 

“A very unknown quantity,” said the lawyer, dryly. 


A CROOKED PATH. 253 

44 Still, the house can't run away, and I suppose will always let 
for fifty or sixty pounds a year." 

44 Fifty, I think." 

44 Then I will look into the matter. Is it in habitable re- 
pair?" 

44 It seems so. Do your best to have the purchase com- 
pleted as soon as possible, dear Mr. Newton. I want to start 
my modiste in good time to catch the home-coming people." 

44 Believe me, it is an unwise project," said Newton, 
thoughtfully. 

44 I know you think so, and you are right to counsel me ac- 
cording to your conscience; but as I am quite determined, you 
must not let me go to a stranger for help." 

44 Very well; give me the address." 

~ 4 4 Seven Malden Street, Paddington. Bell & Co., house 
agents, in Harrow Boad, have it on their book." 

46 Good! I'll get a surveyor to see to sanitary arrange- 
ments, etc. Now that, as usual, you have conquered again 
and again, tell me something of yourself. Are you tired of 
the little nephews yet?" 

44 No, indeed. I have been happier with them than 1 dared 
hope to be when I was left alone nearly a year ago, yet — " 
Her voice faltered and her soft dark eyes filled. 

44 Yes, yes," hastily, with a man's dread of tears; 44 you 
couldn't get over that ail at once. But you know it is a very 
Quixotic business taking those boys; and Mrs. Ormonde is not 
the woman to relieve you should any difficulty arise." 

44 But when boys are well provided for there never can be a 
difficulty. Ah, Mr. Newton, what a wonderful magician 
money is! What would become cf me without it? It is almost 
worth risking anything to get it." 

44 Or, apparently, to get rid of it," remarked Mr. Newton. 
44 By the way, that was a tremendous smash of Errington's. 
Did you hear anything about him?" 

44 Yes," rather faintly. 

44 The reason I mention him is tliat, curiously enough, he 
was the man your uncle left everything to in that will he very 
fortunately destroyed. Of course I should only mention it to 
you; though now all is past and gone, it is of no importance. 
He has behaved very well. I am told he has turned to litera- 
ture. It's a pity he did not follow his profession; but it would 
be rather late in the day for that. 1 think you must find 
these rooms rather stuffy and warm after the sea breezes, for 
you are looking pale and fagged again. " 

44 1 feel a headache coming on," said Katherine, pulling 


254 


A CROOKED PATH. 


herself together. “ 1 hope you will pay me a visit some day. 

I should like to show you my dear little Charlie. He has a 
great look of my mother, especially his eyes; they are just 
like hers . 99 

“ If you will allow me to come some Sunday — 99 

“Certainly. You will sympathize, with Miss Payne. She 
shares your deep-rooted distrust of your fellow-creatures. Yet 
even she has some faint faith in Rachel Trant.” 

“ That is the best symptom about the affair I have yet heard 
of. By the bye, this Miss Payne has made you comfortable? i 
she has been a successful experiment?” 

“ Very successful indeed. I quite like her, and respect her; 
but I shall not stay longer than the time I agreed for. I want 
to make a home for the boys and myself. ” 

“ What! Will Mrs. Ormonde give them up?” 

“Not avowedly, but they will ultimately glide into my 
hands.” 

“ 1 trust you will not regret the charge you are taking on 
yourself.” 

“ I do not fear failure. These children are a great source 
of pleasure to me.” 

A few more words, a promise on Mr. Newton's part to hurry 
matters, and Katherine, bidding him adieu for the present, 
descended to the brougham which she usually hired for distant 
expeditions. Ordering the coachman to stop at Howell & 
James's, Katherine leaned back and reflected on the interview 
with Newton. No doubt he thought he had given her a good 
deal of curious information. If he only knew what a living 
lie she was! Her duplicity met her at every turn, and crie<^ 
shame upon her. However, she had the pardon and permis- 4 
sion of him against whom she had chiefly offended; that 
counted for much. Still, it was too hard a punishment that 
the ghost of her transgression should thus cry out against her, 
and she had done her best to rectify it. She felt profoundly 
depressed. It was an effort to execute the commissions in- 
trusted to her by Miss Payne. These performed, she was leav- 
ing the shop, when a gentleman who was passing rapidly 
almost ran against her. He paused and raised his hat as if to 
apologize. It was Errington. 

“ Miss Liddell!” he exclaimed, a startled, pleased look ani- 
mating his eyes. “ 1 understood you were out of town. I 
hardly hoped to meet you again. ” 

Katherine flushed up, and then grew white. “ I have been 
out of town ever since — 99 Since what? — that turning-point 
in her life when she confessed all to him? 


A CROOKED PATH. 


255 


“ And 1 have been in town/* rejoined Errington. 44 It is 
not nearly so bad as some people imagine. Where are you 
staying?** 

44 Oh,, I am always with Miss Payne, in Wilton Street.** 

4 4 I remember. But I am keeping you standing. May I 
come and see you?** 

4 4 Oh, no; I would rather not,** cried Katherine, with an 
irresistible impulse which she regretted the next moment. 

44 You are always frank,** said Errington, with a kind smile, 
yet in a disappointed tone. 44 1 will not intrude, then. How 
are your nephews, and Mrs. Ormonde? I seem to have lost 
sight of every one, for I have become a very busy man.** 

44 Yes, I know/* she returned, her color going and coming, 
her heart beating so fast she could hardly speak. 44 1 must 
seem so rude! But 1 have read some of your papers in 4 The 
Age.* It must indeed take time and study to produce such 
articles.** 

44 And patience on the part of a young lady to wade through 
them. ** 

44 Ko; they always interest me, even when a little over my 
head. Though 1 do not want you to come and see me, I am 
always so glad to hear about you, to know you are well.** 

44 Then why svoid me?** 

44 How can I help it?** — looking at him with dewy eyes and 
quivering lips. 

44 Well, I must accept your decision. I wish — But I will 
not detain you/* He opened the carriage-door and handed 
her in. 

For an instant her eyes sought his with a wistful, deprecating 
look, then she said, 44 Tell him 4 home/ please,** and she 
drove off. 

The encounter unhinged her for the day. Why had he 
crossed her path, and why had she allowed herself to reject his 
friendly offer to come and see her? Yet it would have made 
her miserable to bear the quiet scrutiny of his eyes through a 
whole visit. He had evidently quite forgiven her, but that 
could not restore her self-respect or render her less keenly 
alive to the silent reproach of his presence. And yet it was 
pleasant to hear him speak, his voice was so clear, so well 
modulated, so intelligent. And how well he looked! better 
and brighter than she had ever seen him. It was evident that 
he was not breaking his heart about Lady Alice. How could 
she have given him up? 

Though nothing was more natural or probable than that 
they should meet when both lived in the same town, huge as it 


256 


A CROOKED PATH. 


is, it was an immense surprise to Katherine, who had somehow 
come to the conclusion that they were never to set eyes on each 
other again. This impression upset her. She was constantly 
on the lookout for Eriington wherever she drove or walked, 
and the composure which she had been diligently, and with a 
sort of sad resignation to Errington’s wishes, building up, was 
replaced by a feverish, restless anticipation of she knew not 
what. 

The result was increased eagerness to see the completion of 
her dress-making scheme, and she made Mr. Newton’s life a 
burden to him till all was accomplished. 

In this she found a shrewd assistant in Mrs. Needham, who 
took up the cause furiously, and drove hither and thither, ex- 
horting, entreating, commanding, and really bringing in cus- 
tomers, somewhat to Katherine’s surprise, as she did not ex- 
pect much wool from so great a cry. 

Shortly before Christmas Miss Trant’s establishment was in 
full working order, a couple of clever assistants had been en- 
gaged, and Rachel herself seemed to wake up to the full energy 
of her nature under the spur of responsibility. 

The affair was not brought to a conclusion, however, with- 
out a struggle on the part of Mr. Newton against Katherine’s 
resolution not to appear in the matter. The house was bought 
in Rachel Trant’s name, the sale was made to her, and Miss 
Liddell’s name never appeared. Newton declared it to be 
sheer madness; even Bertie Payne considered it unwise; but 
Katherine was immovable. 

“I am Miss Trant’s creditor,” she said. 4 4 If successful, 
she will pay me; if not, why, she will give up the house to 
me. I have full faith in her, and I wish her to be perfectly 
unshackled in the undertaking. As the owner cf a house she 
will more readily obtain any credit She may need.” 

44 Which means,” said Mr. Newton, crossly, 44 that you will 
have to pay her debts if you ever intend to get possession of 
the house.” 

44 Well, I have made up my mind to the risk,” returned 
Katherine, with smiling determination; 44 so we will say no 
more about it. ” 

The unexpected meeting with Errington haunted Katherine 
for many a day, and many a night broken by unpleasant 
dreams. She was filled with regret for having so hastily re- 
fused his proffered visit. Yet had he come she would have 
been uneasy in his presence. She longed to see him again; 
she came home from driving or walking each day with aching 


A CROOKED PATH. 


257 


eyes and dulled heart because she had been disappointed in en- 
countering him. Yet she dreaded to meet him, and trembled 
at the idea of speaking to him. She was dismayed at the rest- 
less dissatisfaction of her own mind. Was she never to find 
peace? never to know real enjoyment in her ill-gotten fortune? 
Why was it that the image of this man was perpetually before 
her, the sound of his voice in her ears? Then the answer of 
her inner consciousness came to overwhelm her with shame 
and confusion: “Because you love him with all the strength 
and fervor of a heart that has never frittered away its force in 
senseless flirtations or passing fancies.” This was the climax 
of misfortune. To know that the one of all others she most 
looked up to must, in spite of his kind forbearance, despise 
her as a cheat. Surely it was a sufficient punishment for a 
delicately proud woman to know that she had given hex love 
unasked. All that remained for her was to hide her deep 
wounds, that by stifling the new and vivid feelings which 
troubled her they would die out, and so leave her in a state of 
monotonous repose. She would endeavor by all possible means 
to win forgetfulness. 

When Cis came back for the Christmas holidays, therefore, 
he found his auntie ready to go out with Charlie and himself 
to circus and pantomime. Polytechnic and wax-works, to his 
heart's content. It was not a brisk, frosty Christmas, or she 
would no doubt have been with them on the ice, and the round 
of boyish dissipations called forth an oracular sentence from 
Miss Payne. “ It's just as well those boys are going back to 
school, Katherine. You are more foolish about them than you 
used to be, and if they stayed on you would completely ruin 
them. ” 

Just before the holidays were over, Mrs. Ormonde visited 
London, or rather paused in passing through from the distin- 
guished Christmas gathering to which, to her pride and satis- 
faction, she had been invited at Lady Mary Vincent's. The 
little boys were indifferently glad to see her, and with the jeal- 
ousy inherent in a disposition such as hers she was vexed at not 
being first with her own boys, yet delighted to hand over the 
care and trouble of them to any one who would undertake it. 
These mixed feelings ruffled the bright surface of her self- 
content, inflated as it was by her increasing social success. 

She chose to put up at a quiet hotel in Dover Street rather 
than accept Katherine's and Miss Payne's joint invitation to 
Wilton Street. 

“ 1 know you will not mind, Katie dear,'' she said, as she 
sat at tea (to which refreshment she had invited her sister-in- 
9 


258 


A CROOKED PATH. 


law). “ You see if it were your own house, quite your own, 
1 should prefer staying with you to going anywhere else. As 
it is — ” 

“ You are quite right to please yourself 99 put in Katherine. 

“ Yes, you are always kind and considerate. But, do you 
know, both Colonel Ormonde and I are very anxious you should 
establish yourself on a proper footing. Believe me, you do 
not take the social position you ought, living with an obscure 
old maid like Miss Payne 99 — this in a tone of strong common 
sense. “ The proper place for you is with us at Castleford in 
the autumn and winter, and a house in town with us in the 
spring. Then you and 1 might go abroad sometimes together, 
and leave Ormonde to his turnips and hunting. You would 
be sure to marry well — quite sure . 99 

“ But I am going to settle myself in a house of my own this 
spring,” said Katherine, smiling. 

Against this project Mrs. Ormonde exhausted herself in 
eloquent if contradictory argument; but finding she made no 
impression, suddenly changed the subject. “ That* is a very 
expensive school you have chosen for the boys, Katherine. 
'Duke thinks it ridiculous. Sixty pounds a year for such a 
little fellow as Cis! and now Charlie wiJl cost as much.” 

“ It is, not cheap, certainly; but it is, I think, worth the 
money. Cecil has improved marvelously, and Sandbourne 
agrees so well with them both.” 

“ You will do as you think best, of course. We have the 
highest regard for your opinion. But you must remember 
that what with clothes and traveling and — oh, and doctors! — 
it all comes to more than three hundred a year, and at Castle- 
ford I could keep them for next to nothing, while the stingy 
trustees you have chosen only allow me four hundred and 
fifty.” 

“ So you have only about a hundred and fifty out of the 
total for your personal expenes, eh?” said Katherine, laugh- 
ing. 66 Then you have a husband behind you.” 

“ Oh, I assure you that does not count for much. •’Duke 
doesn't care to spend money, and my having something of my 
own makes matters wonderfully smooth. I am sure you 
would not like to make any unhappiness between us.” 

“ No, certainly not. 1 think it quite right, as my brother's 
widow, you should have something for yourself as long as you 
live. ” 

“You really have a great sense of justice, Katherine, I 
must say! Living as you do, dear, you can form no idea what 


A CROOKED PATH. 


259 


it costs to present an appearance when you are in a certain 
set. ” 

“I don’t suppose I ever shall, though 1 like nice clothes 
too. ” 

“And look so well in them!” added Mrs. Ormonde, who 
was always ready, when she deemed it necessary, to burn the 
incense of flattery on her sister-in-law’s shrine. “ By the way, 
that is a very pretty, well-made costume you have on. I think 
you are slighter than you used to be. ’ ’ 

“ The effect of a good fit. I wish you would employ my 
dress-maker. She is very moderate. ” 

“ Is she?” 

A short discussion of prices followed, and Mrs. Ormonde 
declared she would call on Miss Trant that very afternoon 
and bespeak two dresses, for all she had were quite familiar 
to the eyes of her associates. 

“ 1 suppose you have heard or seen nothing of De Burgh 
lately?” exclaimed Mrs. Ormonde, suddenly. 

“ No, not for a long time.” 

“ He has been away — somewhere in Hungary, hunting or 
shooting; and then he has been staying with old Lord De 
Burgh. They used hardly to speak, and now he seems taken 
into favor. He is a curious sort of man, and he can be so in- 
solent! How he will put his foot on people’s necks when he 
gets the old man’s title and wealth!” 

“ If they let him,” said Katherine, quietly. 

“ As he is in town, I thought he might have called on you. 
He was always running down to that stupid place in the sum- 
mer, so I — ” 

“ Mr. De Burgh!” said a waiter, opening the door with a 
burst. 

“ Talk of an angel!” cried Mrs. Ormonde, rising to receive 
him with a welcoming smile. “ My sister was just saying it 
was a long time since she had seen you.” 

Katherine felt annoyed at the thoughtless speech — if it were 
thoughtless. However, she kept a composed air, though the 
varying color which she never could regulate told De Burgh 
that she was not unmoved. 

“ And probably hoped it would be longer,” he replied, as 
he shook hands with Mrs. Ormonde, but only bowed to Miss 
Liddell. 

“Don’t answer him,” cried the former; “such decided 
fishing does not deserve success.” 

“ 1 will not,” said Katherine, with a kind smile. She was 
too thorough a woman not to have a soft corner in her heart 


260 


A CROOKED PATH. 


for the man who had professed, with so convincing an air of 
sincerity, to love her with all his heart. 

It did not, however, seem to please or displease him, for he 
sat down beside the tea-table with his usual unaffected ease, 
and addressed his conversation to Mrs. Ormonde. 

44 Just heard from Carew that you were in town, and I have 
only escaped from Pontygarvan, where I have been playing 
the dutiful kinsman to my immortal relative. I don't know 
which is most to be avoided, his enmity or his liking. He 
is an amusing old cynic at times, but a born despot. He 
only let me away to prosecute a scheme that he has taken 
up, and which I have gone pretty deeply into myself. " 

44 Indeed!" exclaimed Mrs. Ormonde, handing him some 
tea. 44 Have you turned promoter, or — " 

44 Well, I'm going to be my own promoter; time only will 
show how I'll succeed. You must both give me your best 
wishes." 

44 1 am sure I do," said Mrs. Ormonde. 

De Burgh raised his eyes slowly to Katherine's. She had 
not spoken. 44 Don't you wish me success? No; I thought 
you didn't." 

44 1 wish you all possible happiness," she said, in a low tone. 

44 Have you quarreled with Katherine, or offended her, that 
she is so implacable?" asked Mrs. Ormonde. 

44 Neither, I hope. Now, what are you doing in the way of 
amusement? Have you seen a play since you came up? The 
pantomimes are still on at the big theaters. But I want you 
to come and see 4 Ours ' at the Prince of Wales on Thursday; 
it's very good in parts. Then if you’ll sup with me after, at 
my rooms, I'll get Carew and Brereton and one or two others 
to meet you." 

44 It would be very nice!" exclaimed Mrs. Ormonde. 

44 Thank you," returned Katherine. 44 1 am, strange to 
say, going to a party on Thursday." 

44 To a party! How extraordinary! Where, Katherine?" 

44 To Lady Barrington's — a lady I knew in Florence, and 
who has invited me repeatedly. " 

44 1 am sure 1 am very glad you are coming out of your 
shell at last. Where does this Lady Barrington live?" 

44 In Lancaster Square, not far from my abode." 

44 Well, let us say Friday for 4 Ours,' " said De Burgh; 
44 for I too am going to Lady Barrington's on Thursday." 

44 Then why did you invite us for that evening?" cried Mrs. 
Ormonde. 


A CROOKED PATH. , 261 

44 I could have gone afterward. Lady Barrington's gather- 
ings are always late.” 

44 Yoii really know every one.” 

44 Oh, not every one, Mrs. Ormonde.” 

44 Then our 4 play ' is not to come off unless Katherine is to 
he of the party ” — rather pettishly. 

44 If you like I will take you on Thursday, and Miss Liddell 
(if she will allow me) on Friday. ” 

44 What nonsense! We will all go together on Friday. 
Katie, do you think this friend of yours would invite me? I 
don't care to mope here when you are out enjoying yourself.” 

44 1 am sure she would be very pleased to see you. I will 
write and ask her for an invitation as soon as I go home. ” 
Katherine rose as she spoke. 

44 Do, like a good girl; and 1 will go and interview this 
dress-maker of yours. Till to-morrow, then.” 

The little woman stood on tiptoe to kiss her tall sister-in- 
law, who left the room, followed by De Burgh. 

44 Haven't 1 been a reasonable, well-behaved fellow not to 
have haunted or worried you all these months? Will you let 
me come and tell you how wise and staid and prudent I have 
become?” he said. 

He spoke half in jest, but there was a wonderfully appeal- 
ing look in his eyes. 

44 1 am very glad to hear it, Mr. De Burgh. I hope you 
will go on and prosper.” 

44 And will you shut your doors against me if I call?” 

44 No; why should I?” 

44 Thanks! How heavenly it is to see you again! though 
you don't look quite as bright as you did at Sandbourne. Is 
this your carriage? I see you have not started a turn-out of 
your own yet. ” 

44 And never shall, probably.” 

44 Not, at all events, till you have appointed your 4 master 
of the horse.' Good-bye till to-morrow night.” 

He handed her carefully into the brougham, and stood look- 
ing after it as she drove away. 


CHAPTER XX1I1. 

A WANDERER RETURNS. 

It was quite an event in Katherine's quiet life to go to a 
party. She had never been at one in London, and anticipated 
it with interest. Both in Florence and Paris she had mixed in 
society and greatly enjoyed it. Now she felt a little curious 


262 


A CROOKED PATH. 


as to the impression she might make and receive. Her nature 
was essentially vigorous and healthy, and threw off morbid 
feelings as certain chemicals repel others inimical to them. 
She would have enjoyed life intensely but for the perpetually 
recurring sense of irritation against herself for having forfeited 
her own self-respect by her^iasty action. It would have been 
somewhat humiliating to have taken charity from the hands 
of Errington, but this was as nothing to the crushing abase- 
ment of knowing that she had cheated him. Still, no con- 
dition of mind is constant — except with monomaniacs — and 
Katherine was often carried away from herself and her 
troubles. 

She was glad, on the whole, that De Burgh was to be at 
Lady Barrington’s reception. 

She was too genial, too responsive, not to find admiration 
very acceptable. Nor could she believe that a man like De 
Burgh, hard, daring, careless, could suffer much or long 
through his affections. It flattered her woman’s vanity, too, 
that with her he dropped his cynical, mocking tone, and 
spoke with straightforward earnestness. He might have ended 
by interesting and flattering her till she loved him — for he had 
a certain amount of attraction — if her carefully resisted feel- 
ing for Errington had not created an antidote to the poison he 
might have introduced into her life. 

Altogether she dressed with something of anticipated pleas- 
ure, and was not displeased with the result of her toilet. 

Her dress was as deeply mourning as it was good taste to 
wear at an evening-party. A few folds of gauzy white lisse 
softened the edge of her thick black silk corsage, a jet necklet 
and comb set off her snowy, velvety throat and bright, golden 
brown hair. 

44 I had no idea you would turn out so effectively,” ex- | 
claimed Mrs. Ormonde, examining her with a critical eye as f 
they took off their wraps in the ladies’ cloak-room. 44 Your | 
dress might have been cut a little lower, dear; with a long $ 
throat like yours it is very easy to keep within the bounds of 1 
decency. I wonder you do not buy yourself some diamonds; 
they«are so becoming.” 

44 I shall wait for some one to give them to me,” returned 
Katherine, laughing. 

44 Quite right ” — very gravely — 44 only if I were you 1 should * 
make haste and decide on the 4 some one. ’ ’ ’ 

44 Mrs. Ormonde and Miss Liddell!” shouted the waiters 
from landing to door, and the next moment Lady Barrington, 
a large woman in black velvet and a fierce white cap in which 


A CROOKED PATH. 263 

glittered an aigrette of diamonds, was welcoming them with 
much cordiality. 

44 Very happy to see any friend of yours, my dear Miss Lid- 
dell! 1 think I had the pleasure of meeting you, Mrs. Or- 
monde, at Lord Trevallan’s garden-party last June?” 

6 4 Oh, yes; were you there?” with saucy surprise. 

4 4 Algernon,” continued Lady Barrington, motioning with 
her fan to a tall, thin youth. 44 My nephew, Mrs. Ormonde, 
Miss Liddell. I think Algernon had the pleasure of meeting 
you at Rome?” Katherine bowed and smiled. 44 Take Mrs. 
Ormonde and Miss Liddell in and find them seats near the 
piano. Signor Bandolini and Madame Montebello are good 
enough to give us some of their charming duets, and are just 
going to begin. I was afraid you might be late. ” 

So Mrs. Ormonde and Miss. Liddell were ushered to places 
of honor, and the music began. 

44 1 don’t see a soul I know,” whispered Mrs. Ormonde, 
presently. 44 Yet the women are wel] dressed and look nice 
enough, but the men are decidedly caddish. ” 

44 London is a large place, with room in it for all sorts and 
conditions of men. But we must not talk, Ada.” 

Mrs. Ormonde was silent for awhile; and then opening her 
fan to screen her irrepressible desire to communicate her ob- 
servations, resumed : 

44 1 am sure I saw Captain Darrell in the door-way only for 
a minute, and he went away. I hope he will come and talk 
to us. You were gone when he came back from leave — to 
Monckton, I mean. He is rather amu — ” A warning 
44 hush-sh ” interrupted her. 

44 What rude, ill-bred people!” she muttered, under her 
breath. And soon the duet — a new one, expressly composed 
to show off the vocal gymnastics of the signor and madame — 
came to an end; there was a rustle of relief, and every one 
burst into talk. 

44 How glad they are it is over!” said Mrs. Ormonde. 
44 Look at that tall girl in pink. You see those sparkles in 
the roses on her corsage and in her hair; they are all diamonds. 
1 know the white glitter. What airs she gives herself! 1 
suppose she is an heiress, and, I dare say, not half as rich as 
you are.” 

44 Don’t be too sure. I am no millionaire,” began Kath- 
erine, when she was interrupted by a voice she knew, which 
said, 44 1 had no id'ea it was to be such a ghastly concern as 
this!” and turning, she found De Burgh close behind her. 

44 What offends you?” she asked, smiling. 


264 


A CROOKED RATH. 


“ All this trilling and shrieking. There's tea or something 
going on down-stairs. You had better come away before they 
have a fresh burst; they are carrying up a big fiddle." 

“ Tea!" exclaimed Mrs. Ormonde. “ Oh, do take me away 
to have some!" 

“ Here, Darrell," said De Burgh, coolly, turning back to 
speak to some one who stood behind him. “ Here's Mrs. Or- 
monde dying for deliverance and tea. Come, do your devoir ." 

Darrell hastened forward, smiling, delighted. With a little 
pucker of the brow and lifting of the eyebrows Mrs. Ormonde 
accepted his arm. 

“ Now, Miss Liddell," said De Burgh, offering his; and 
not sorry to escape from the heated, crowded room, Katherine 
took it and accompanied him down-stairs. 

“ 1 did not think you knew Lady Barrington," said Kath- 
erine, as he handed her an ice. 

“ Know her? Never heard of her till you mentioned her 
name the day before yesterday. " 

“ How did she come to ask you to her house, then?" 

“ Let me see. Oh, I went down to the club and asked if 
any one knew Lady Barrington, and who was going to her 
party. At last Darrell said he was a sort of relation, and that 
he would ask for a card. He did, and here 1 am." 

“ But you said you were coming." 

“ So 1 was. I made up my mind to come as soon as you 
said you were." 

46 You are very audacious, Mr. De Burgh!" said Katherine, 
laughing in spite of her intention to be. rather distant with 
him. 

“ Do you think so? Then 1 have earned the character 
cheaply. Are they going to squall and fiddle all night? I 
thought it might turn into a dance. " 

“ I did not imagine you would condescend to dance." 

“ Why? I used to like dancing, under certain conditions. 
Don't fancy I haven't an ear for music, Miss Liddell, because 
I said the performance upstairs was ghastly. 1 am very fond 
of music — real sweet music. I liked your songs, and 1 should 
have liked a waltz with you — immensely. You know I never 
met you out in society before — " He stopped abruptly and 
looked at her from head to foot, with a comprehensive glance 
so full of the admiration he did not venture to speak that 
Katherine felt the color mount to her bi;ow and even spread 
over her white throat, while an odd sense of uneasy distress 
fluttered her pulses. She only said, indifferently: 


A CROOKED PATH. 265 

“ I might not prove a good partner. I have never danced 
much.” 

“ I might give you a lesson in that too, as well as in hand- 
ling the ribbons. And for that there will be a grand oppor- 
tunity next week. Lord De Burgh is coming up, and I shall 
have the run of his stables, which I will take good care shall 
be well filled. We'll have out a smart pair of cobs, and you 
shall take them round the parjj: every morning, till you are fit 
to give all the other women- whips the go-by.” 

“ Do you seriously believe such a scheme possible?” 

“ It shall be, if you say yes. Do you know that you have 
brought me luck? You have, 'pon my soul! I am A1 with 
old De Burgh, and I won a pot of money up in Yorkshire, 
paid a lot of debts, sold my horses. Now, don't you think 
you ought to be interested in your man Friday? You remem- 
ber our last meeting at Sandbourne, hey? Don't you think I 
am going to succeed all along the line?” 

“It is impossible to say,” returned Katherine. “You 
know there is a French proverb — ” She stopped, not liking 
to repeat it as she suddenly remembered the application. 

“ Yes, I do know the lying Gallic invention! ‘ Heureux 
ciu jeu, malheureux en amour. 9 I don't believe it. If luck's 
with you, all goes well; but then Fortune is such a fickle 
jade!” 

“ I trust you will always be fortunate, Mr. De Burgh,” said 
Katherine, gently. 

“1 like to hear you say so. Now 1 don't often let my 
tongue run on as it has, but if you'll be patient and friendly. 
I'll be as mild and inoffensive as a youngster fresh from 
school.” 

“ Very well,” said Katherine, smiling and confused. Here 
she was interrupted by the sudden approach of Mrs. Need- 
ham, her dark eyes gleaming with pleased recognition, and 
her high color heightened by the heat of the rooms. She was 
gorgeous in red satin, black ]ace, and diamonds. * 

“ My dear Miss Liddell! 1 have been looking for you every- 
where! I want so much to speak to you about a project I have 
for starting a new weekly paper, to be called ‘ The Woman's 
Weekly. ' There is an empty sofa in that little room at the other 
side of the hall. Do come, and I will explain it all. It is likely 
to do a great deal of good, and to be a paying concern into the 
bargain. You will excuse me for running away with Miss Lid- 
dell ” — to De Burgh— “ but we have some matters to discuss. 
We shall meet you upstairs afterward.” She swept Katherine 
away while De Burgh stood scowling. Who was this audacious 


266 


A CKOOKED PATH. 


pirate who had cut out his convoy from under the fire of his 
angry eyes? 

“ You see, my dear/* commenced Mrs. Needham, in a low 
voice and speaking rapidly, “ there is an immense field to be 
cultivated in the humble strata of the better working class, 
and the paper I wish to establish will be quite different from 
‘ The Queen/ more useful and less than half price. No stuff 
about fashionable marriages in print that is enough to blind 
an eagle, but useful receipts fnd work patterns, domestic in- 
formation, and a story — a story is a great point — a description 
of any great events, and fashion plates, etc.” And she poured \ 
forth a torrent of what she was pleased to term “ facts and 
figures ” till Katherine felt fairly bewildered. 

“ It seems a great undertaking,” she replied, when she 
could get a word in. “I shall require a great deal of explana- - 
tion before I can comprehend it. Will you not come and see ( 
me when we shall be alone, and we can discuss it quietly?” 

46 Certainly, my dear Miss Liddell — to-morrow. No; to- j 
morrow I have about seven or eight engagements between two ] 
and six-thirty. Let me see. I am terribly pressed just now; " 

I will write and fix some morning if you will come and lunch t 
with me. If you could see your way to taking a few shares it 7 
would be a great help. Money — money — money. Without 
the filthy lucre nothing can be begun or ended. Now tell me I 
how you have been. I have been coming to see you for | 
months , but never get a moment to myself; but I have heard \ 
of you from Mr. Payne. What a good fellow he is! How is 1 
Miss Payne?” Katherine replied, and Mrs. Needham rushed j 
on: “ Nice party, isn’t it? There are several literary people | 
here to-night. I did not know Lady Barrington went in for | 
literary society, but one picks up a little of all sorts when you J 
live abroad for awhile. Here is a very interesting man. He l 
is coming very much to the front, as a political and philosophic I 
writer. It is said he is to be the editor of ‘ The Empire/ 
that new monthly which they say is to take the lead of all the :•] 
magazines. I met him at Professor Kean’s last week. I don’t j 
think he sees me. Good-evening! Don’t think you remem- jj 
ber me — Mrs. Needham. Had the pleasure of meeting you ^ 
at Professor Kean’s last Monday. Mr. Errington, Miss Lid- 
dell!” 


“ I have already the jaleasure of knowing Miss Liddell,” he 
returned, with a grave smile and stately bow, as he took the' 
hand Katherine hesitatingly held out. 

“ Oh, indeed; I was not aware of it.” Errington stood 
talking with Mrs. Needham, or, rather, answering her rapid 




A CROOKED PATH. 


267 


questions respecting a variety of subjects, until she suddenly 
recognized some one to whom she was imperatively compelled 
to speak. With a hasty, 44 Will you be so good as to take Miss 
Liddell to her friends?” she darted away with surprising 
lightness and rapidity, considering her size and solidity. 

44 Would you like to go upstairs?” asked Errington. 

44 If you please.” Katherine was quivering with pain and 
pleasure at finding herself thus virtually alone with the man 
whose image haunted her in spite of her constant determined 
efforts to banish it from her mind. 

On the first landing was a conservatory prettily lighted and 
decorated, and larger than those ordinarily appended to Lon- 
don houses. 44 Suppose we rest here,” said Errington. 
44 From the quiet which reigns above, I think some one is re- 
citing, and that is not an exhilarating style of amusement.” 

44 1 should think not. I have never heard any one attempt 
to recite in England. ” 

44 May you long be preserved from the infliction! There 
are very few who can make recitation endurable.” 

After some inquiries for Colonel and Mrs. Ormonde, and a 
few observations on the beautiful, abundant flowers, Erring- 
ton said: 44 Won't you sit down? If it is not unpleasant to 
you, I should like to improve this occasion, as 1 rarely have 
an opportunity of seeing you. ” 

Katherine complied, and sat down on a settee which was be- 
hind a central group of tall, feathery ferns. She was another 
creature from the bright and somewhat coquettish girl who 
was always reacjy to answer De Burgh or Colonel Ormonde 
with keen, prompt wit. Silent, downcast, scarcely able to 
raise her eyes to Errington’s, yet too fascinated to resist his 
wish to continue their interview. 

44 1 am very glad to meet you here,” began Errington, in 
his calm, melodious voice. 44 It is so much better for you to 
mix with your kind; it has a wholesome, humanizing influ- 
ence, and may I venture to say that you are inclined to be 
morbid?” 

44 Can you wonder?” said Katherine, soft and low. 

44 Yes, I cfo. There is no reason why you should not be 
bright and happy, and enjoy the goods the gods — ” 

44 No,” she interrupted, playing nervously with the flowers 
in her bouquet; 44 not given by the gods! Stolen from you!” 
She did not raise her eyes as she spoke. 

44 1 do beg you to put that incident out of your mind. We 
have' arranged the question of succession, as only I had a right 
to do. No one else need know, and you will, I am sure, make 


268 


A CROOKED PATH. 


a most excellent use of wliat is now really yours. Forget the 
past, and allow me to be your friend.” 

44 1 am always thinking of you,” she said, almost in a whis- 
per. 44 Yet it is always a trial to meet you. 1 think 1 would 
rather not. Tell me,” with a sudden impulse of tenderness 
and contrition, looking up to him with humid eyes, 46 are you 
well and happy? How have you borne the terrible change in 
your life?” 

44 I am perfectly well and (juite happy,” returned Erring- 
ton, with a slight smile. 44 The terrible change, as you term 
it, has affected me*very little. 1 find real work most exhila- 
rating, and slight success is sweet. Since 1 knew that the 
tangle of my poor father’s affairs was satisfactorily unraveled, 
I have been at ease, comparatively. Life has many sides. I 
miss most my horses. ” 

44 Ah, yes, you must miss them! Well, from what I hear, 
you seem to be making a place for yourself in literature. I 
am so glad!” 

44 Thank you. And you, may 1 ask, what are your plans?” 

44 If you are so good as to care, 1 am' going to take a house 
and make a home for myself and my little nephews. Without 
any formal agreement, Mrs. Ormonde leaves them very much 
to me. They are a great interest to me. And as you are so 
kind in wishing me to be happy and not morbid, I will try to 
forget. I think 1 could be happier if you would promise me 
something. ” 

44 What?” 

44 If ever—” She hesitated; her voice trembled. 44 If you 
ever want anything,” she hurried on, nervously, 44 anything, 
even to the half of my kingdom, you will deign to accept it 
from me?” 

44 1 will,” said Errington, with a kind and, as Katherine 
imagined, a condescending smile. 

44 He thinks me a weak, impulsive child, who must be for- 
given because she is scarcely responsible/’ she said to herself. 

44 And this preliminary settled, you will admit me to the 
honor of your acquaintance?” $ 

44 Oh, Mr. Errington, do not think me ungrateful. But can 
you not understand that, good and generous as you are, your 
presence overwhelms me?” 

44 Then I will not intrude upon you. Gently and very 
gravely 1 accept your decree. ” 

They were silent for a moment; then Katherine said:, 44 1 
was sure you would understand me. ” As she spoke, Tie Burgh 


A CKOOKED PATH. 269 

suddenly came round the group of ferns and stood before them 
with an air of displeased surprise. 

46 Why, Miss Liddell! I thought that desperate filibuster in 
red satin had carried you off. I have sought you high and 
low. How d'ye do, Errington? Haven't seen you this age. 
Mrs. Ormonde wants to go home. Miss Liddell." 

44 I suppose the recitation is over," said Errington, coolly. 
44 1 will take Miss Liddell to Mrs. Ormonde, whom I have not 
seen for some time." 

De Burgh, therefore, had nothing for it but to walk after 
the man whom he at once decided was a dangerous rival, as 
indeed he would have considered any one in the rank of a 
gentleman. 

Mrs. Ormonde was quite charmed to see Errington. She 
had put him rather out of her mind. It was a pleasant sur- 
prise to meet him once more in society, for she had a sort of 
dim idea his ruin was so complete that he must have sold his 
dress clothes to provide food, and could never, therefore, hold 
up his head in society again. 

44 It is quite nice to see you once more!" she exclaimed, with 
a sweet smile, after they had exchanged greetings. 44 Colonel 
Ormonde will be delighted to hear of you. I wish you could 
come down for a few days' hunting. Do give me your ad- 
dress, and 'Duke will write to you." 

44 There is my address," he said, taking out his card-case 
and giving her a card; 44 but I fear there is little chance of 
my getting out of town till long after the hunting is over." 

44 Oh, you must try. At all events, come and see me. I 
am at Thorne's Hotel, Dover Street, and almost always at 
home about five. But I leave town next week." 

Here the hostess sailed up, and touching Errington's arm, 
said, 44 Sir Arthur Haynes, the great authority on international 
law, you know, wants to be introduced to you, Mr. Erring- 
ton. " 

Mrs. Ormonde took the opportunity of saying good-niglit, 
and Katherine took farewell of Errington with a bow. 

44 Twenty-four Sycamore Court Temple. What a come- 
down for him!" said Mrs. Ormonde, looking at the card she 
held, when they reached the cloak-room. 

44 He seems cheerful enough," said Katherine, irritated at 
the tone in which the observation was made; 44 and 1 thought 
the Temple was rather a smart place to live in." 

44 1 am sure I don't know. Come, it must be late. What 
a stupid party! How cross De Burgh looks! I am sure he 
has a horrid temper!" 


270 


A CROOKED PATH. 


In the hall Captain Darrell and De Burgh awaited them. 
The latter was too angry to speak. He handed Katherine 
into the carriage, and uttering a brief good-night, stepped 
back to make way for Captain Darrell, who expressed his 
pleasure at having met Mrs. Ormonde, and begged to be 
allowed to call next day. 

On the whole, Katherine felt comforted by the assurance of 
Errington’s friendly feeling toward her. How cruel it was to 
be obliged thus to reject his kindly advances! But it was 
wiser. If she met him often, what would become of her deter- 
mination to steel her heart against the extraordinary feeling 
he had awakened? Besides, it could only be the wonderful 
patient benevolence of his nature which made him take any 
notice of her. In his own miud contempt could be the only 
feeling she awakened. No; the less she saw of him, the bet- 
ter for her. 

By the time De Burgh called to escort Katherine and Mrs. 
Ormonde (who had dined with her) to the theater he had con- 
quered the extreme, though unreasonable, annoyance which 
had seized him on finding Errington and Katherine in appar- 
ently confidential conversation. He exerted himself therefore 
to be an agreeable host with success. 

A play was the amusement of all others which delighted 
Katherine and drew her out of herself. De Burgh was diverted 
and Mrs. Ormonde half ashamed of the profound interest, the 
entire attention, with which she listened to the dialogue and 
awaited the denouement . 

44 I should have thought you had seen too much good acting 
abroad to be so delighted with this,” said Mrs. Ormonde. 

44 But this is excellent, and the style, is so new. I have to 
thank you, Mr. De Burgh, for a delightful evening.” 

4 4 The same to you,” he returned. 44 Seeing you enjoy it so 
much woke me up to the merits of the thing.” 

The supper was bright and lively. Three men besides him- ' 
self, and a cousin, a pretty, chatty woman of the world, com- 
pleted De Burgh’s party. There was plenty of laughing and 
chaffing. Katherine felt seized by a feverish desire to shake 
off dull care, to forget the past, to be as other women were. 
There was no reason why she should not. So she laughed and 
talked with unusual animation, and treated her host with 
kindly courtesy, that set his deep eyes aglow with hope and 
pleasure. 

44 It is a great advantage to be rich,” said Mrs. Ormonde, 
reflectively, as she leaned comfortably in the corner of the car- 


A CROOKED PATH. 


271 


riage which conveyed her and her sister-in-law home. She 
was always a little nettled when she found how completely 
Katherine had effaced herself from De Burgh's fickle mind. 
She had been highly pleased with the idea of having her hus- 
band's distinguished relative for a virtuous and despairing 
adorer, and his desertion had mortified her considerably. 

“ Yes, money is certainly a great help/' returned Kath- 
erine, scarce heeding what she said. 

“ It certainly has been to you, Katie. Don't think me dis- 
agreeable for suggesting it, but do you suppose De Burgh 
would show you all this devotion if you were to lose your 
money?" 

“ Oh, no! He could not afford it. He told me he must 
marry a rich woman. " 

“ Did he, really? It is just like him. What audacity! 1 
wonder you ever spoke to him again. Then you are going in 
for rank, Katherine?" 

“ How can you tell? I don't know myself. Good-night. 
1 shall tell you whenever I know my own mind." 

“ She is as close as wax, with all her frankness," thought 
Mrs. Ormonde, as she went up to her room, after taking an 
affectionate leave of her sister-in-law. 

The boys at school, Katherine found time hung somewhat 
heavily on her hands — a condition of things only too favorable 
to thought and visions of what 44 might have been." So, with 
the earnest hope of finding the exhilarations which might lead, 
through forgetfulness, to the happiness she so eagerly craved, 
Katherine accepted almost all the invitations which were soon 
showered upon her. At the houses of acquaintances she had 
made abroad she made numerous new ones, who were quite 
ready to fete the handsome,, sweet-voiced, pleasant-mannered 
heiress who seemed to think so little about herself. 

“ Just the creature to be imposed upon, my dear!" as each 
mother whispered to the one next her, thinking, of course, of 
the other's son. 

But her most satisfactory hours were those spent with Rachel, 
when they talked of the business, and often branched off to 
more abstract subjects. To the past they never alluded. 
Katherine was glad to see that the dead, hopeless expression 
of Rachel Trant's eyes had changed, yet not altogether for 
good. A certain degree of alertness had brightened them, but 
with it had come a hard, steady look, as though the spirit 
within had a special work to do, and was steeled and “ strait- 
ened till it be accomplished." 

“ You are quite a clever accountant, Rachel," said KatK 


272 


A CROOKED PATH. 


erine, one afternoon in early April, after they had gone through 
the books together. “ You have been established nearly five 
months, and you have paid expenses and a trifle over.” 

“ It is not bad. Then, you see, the warehouses will give 
me credit for the next orders, three months* credit, and my 
orders are increasing. I am sure it is of great importance to 
have materials for customers to choose from. Ladies like to 
be saved the trouble of shopping, and 1 can give a dress at a 
more moderate rate, if I provide everything, than they can buy 
it piecemeal. I hope to double the business this season, and 
pay you a good percentage. Even on credit I can venture to 
order a fair supply of goods.** 

4 4 Don*t try credit yet, Rachel,** said Katherine, earnestly. 
“ I can give you a check now, and after this you can stand 
alone.** 

“ Are you quite sure you can do this without inconven- 
ience?** asked Kachel. “ If you can, 1 will accept it. I begin 
to feel sure I shall be able to develop a good business and 
what will prove valuable property for you. It is an ambition 
that has quite filled my heart, and in devoting myself to it I 
have found the first relief from despair — a despair that 
possessed my soul whenever you were out of my sight. When 
I am not thinking of gowns and garnitures, I am adding up 
all the money you have sunk in this adventure, and planning 
how it may ultimately pay you six per cent, over and above 
expenses. It does not sound a very heroic style of gratitude, 
but it is practical, and, I believe, feasible.** 

“ You are intensely real,** said Katherine, “ and I believe 
you will be successful.** 

After discussing a few more points connected with the un- 
dertaking they parted, and before Katherine dressed for din- 
ner she wrote and dispatched the promised check. 

De Burgh had throughout this period conducted himself 
with prudence and discretion. He often called about tea- 
time, and frequently managed to meet Katherine in the even- 
ing, but he carefully maintained a frank, friendly tone even 
when expressing in his natural, brusque way his admiration of 
herself or her dress. He talked pleasantly to Miss Payne, and 
subscribed to many of Bertie*s charities. Katherine was get- 
ting quite used to him, though they disagreed and argued a 
good deal. She sometimes tried to persuade herself that De 
Burgh had given up his original pretensions and would be sat- 
isfied with platonics. But her inner consciousness rejected the 
theory. Still, De Burgh came to be recognized as a favored 
suitor by society, and the “ mothers, the cousins, and the 


A CKOOKED PATH. 273 

aunts ” of eligible young men shook their heads over the mis- 
take she was making. 

Now, after mature consideration, Katherine determined to 
make the will she had so long postponed, and bequeath all she 
possessed to Errington. It was rather a formidable under- 
taking to announce this intention to Mr. Newton, who would 
be sure to be surprised and interrogative, but she would do it. 
Having therefore made an appointment with him, she screwed 
up her courage and set out, accompanied by Miss Payne, who 
had been laid up with a cold, and was venturing out for the 
first time. She took advantage of Katherine’s brougham to 
have a drive. The morning was very fine, and they started 
early, early enough to allow Miss Payne to leave the carriage 
and walk a little in the sun on 44 the Ladies’ Mile.” 

As they proceeded slowly along, a well-appointed phaeton 
and pair of fine steppers passed them. It was occupied by two 
gentlemen, one old, gray, bent,, and closely wrapped up; the 
other, vigorous, dark, erect, held the reins. He lifted his hat 
as he passed Katherine and her companion with a swift, 
pleased smile. 

44 Who are those women?” asked the old gentleman, in a 
thick growl. 

44 Miss Liddell and her companion.” 

44 By George! she looks like a gentlewoman. Turn, and 
let us pass them again. ” 

He Burgh obeyed, and slackened speed as he went by. At 
the sound of the horses’ tramp Katherine turned her head and 
gave De Burgh a bright smile and a gracious bow. 

44 She is wonderfully good-looking for an heiress,” remarked 
Lord De Burgh, who was of course the wrapped-up old gentle- 
man. 44 1 should say something for you if you could show 
such a woman with sixty or seventy thousand behind her as 
your wife. Why don’t you go in and win? Don’t let the 
grass grow under your feet. ” 

44 It is easier said than done. Miss Liddell is not an ordi- 
nary sort of young lady; she is not to be hurried. But I do 
not despair, by any means, of winning her yet. If I press my 
suit too soon, I may lose my chance. Trust me, it won’t be 
my fault if 1 fail. ” 

44 1 see you are in earnest,” said the old man, 44 and I be- 
lieve you’ll win.” 

De Burgh nodded, and whipped up his horses. 

44 That must be the old lord,” said Miss Payne, as the 
phaeton passed out of sight. 44 Mr. De Burgh seems in high 
favor# 1 can not help liking him myself, Ihere^ no non- 


274 


A CROOKED PATH. 


sense about him,, and he is quite a gentleman in spite of his 
brusquerie. ” 

44 Yes, I think he is/* said Katherine, thoughtfully, and 
walked on a little while in silence. Then Miss Payne said she 
felt tired; so they got into the carriage again and drove to 
Mr. Newton’s office. There Katherine alighted, and desired 
the driver to take Miss Payne home and return for herself. 

44 And what is your business to-day?” asked Mr. Newton, 
when, after a cordial greeting, his fair client had taken a chair 
beside his knee-hole table. 

4 6 A rather serious matter, I assure you. I want to make 
my will.” 

44 Very right, very right; it will not bring you any nearer 
your last hour, and it ought to be done.” 

The lawyer drew a sheet of paper to him, and prepared to 
44 take instructions.” 

44 I should like to leave several small legacies,” began Kath- 
erine, 66 and have put down the names of those I wish to re- 
member, with the amounts each is to receive. If you read 
over this paper ” (handing it to him) 64 we can discuss — ” 

She was interrupted by a tap at the door which faced her, 
but was on Newton’s left. A high screen protected the old 
lawyer from draughts, and prevented him from seeing who 
entered until the visitor stood before him. 

44 Come in,” said Newton, peevishly; and as a clerk pre- 
sented himself, added, 44 What do you want?” 

44 Beg pardon, sir. A gentleman down-stairs wants to see 
you so very particularly that he insisted on my coming up.” 

44 Well, say I can’t. I am particularly engaged. He must 
wait.” 

While he spoke Katherine saw a man cross the threshold, a 
tall, gaunt man, slightly stooped. His clothes hung loosely on 
him, but they were new and good. His hair was iron-gray, 
and thin on his craggy temples. Something about his watch- 
ful, stern eyes, his close-shut mouth, and strong, clean-shaven 
jaw seemed not unfamiliar to Katherine, and she was strangely 
struck and interested in his aspect. Mr. Newton’s last words 
evidently reached his ear, for he answered, in deep, harsh 
tones, 44 No, Newton, I will not wait!” and walked in, pausing 
exactly opposite the lawyer, who grew grayly pale, and start- 
ing from his seat leaned both hands on the table, while he 
trembled visibly. 44 My God!” he exclaimed, hoarsely, 
44 George Liddell!” 

44 Ay, George Liddell! I thought you would know me.” 


A CROOKED PATH. 


275 




CHAPTER XXIV. 

A TRAVELERS STORY. 

Whe^t these startling sentences penetrated to Katherine's 
comprehension she saw as with a flash their far-reaching conse- 
quences. Her uncle’s will suppressed, his son and natural 
heir would take everything. And her dear boys — how would 
they fare? 

She sat with wide-dilated eyes, gazing at the hard, displeased 
face of this unwelcome intruder. There were a few moments 
of profound silence; the old lawyer's hands, which relaxed 
their grasp of his chair as he looked with startled amazement 
at his late client's son, visibly trembled. 

Liddell was the first to speak. 44 So you thought 1 was dead 
and out of the way," he said, with a sneer; 44 that nothing 
would happen to disturb the fortunate possessor of my father's 
money. I was dead and done for, and a good riddance." 

44 But how — how is it that you are alive?" stammered Mr. 
Newton. 

44 Oh, that I can easily account for." And he looked round 
for a chair. 

44 Yes, pray sit down," said Mr. Newton, recovering him- 
self. 

Here Katherine, with the unconscious tact of a sensitive 
woman, feeling how terrible it must be to find one's continued 
existence a source of regret to others, rose and held out her 
hand. 44 Let me, your kinswoman," she said, 44 welcome you 
back to life and home. I hope there are many happy years 
before you." 

Liddell was greatly surprised. He mechanically took the 
hand offered to him, and looking earnestly into her face, ex- 
claimed, 44 Who are you?" 

44 Katherine Liddell, your uncle Frederic's daughter." 

He dropped — indeed, almost threw — her hand from him. 
44 What!" he cried, 44 are you the supplanter, who took all 
without an inquiry, without an effort to find out if I were dead 
or alive?" 

44 Sit down — sit down — sit down," repeated Newton, still 
confused. 44 Let us talk over everything. As to trying to 
find you, we never dreamed of finding you, considering that 
twelve, fourteen years ago we had an account of your death 
from an eye-witness." 

44 Cowardly liar! It was worth a Jew's ransom to see him 


276 


A CROOKED PATH. 


turn white and drop into a chair when I confronted him the 
day before yesterday.” 

“ Why did you not communicate with me on hearing of your 
father’s death?” 

“ When do you think 1 heard of it? Do you fancy I sat 
down in the midst of my busy day to pore over the births, 
deaths, and marriages in a paper, like a gossiping woman? 
Kith and kin were dead to me long ago. What did I care for 
English papers? What had my life or the life of my poor 
mother been that I should give those I had left behind a 
thought?” He paused, and taking a chair, looked very straight 
at Katherine. ■“ Now I shall tell you my story, once for all, 
to show you that there is no use in disputing my rights. You 
know ” — addressing Newton — “ how my life was made a bur- 
den to me, and that I ran away to sea, ready to throw myself 
into it rather than return to my miserable home. After sev- 
eral voyages I found myself at Sydney. A young fellow who 
had been my mate on the voyage out, an active, clever chap, 
proposed that we should start for the gold fields; so we start- 
ed. It was a desperate long tramp, but we reached them at 
last. Life was hard and rough, and for a time we worked and 
worked, and got nothing. At last we found a pocket, just as 
we were going to give up, and having secured a fair lot of 
gold, we divided our gains and determined to leave the camp, 
which was not too safe for a successful digger, before the rest 
knew of our treasure-trove. We decided to trudge it to the 
nearest place where we could buy horses, and then to make 
our way to Sydney as fast as we could. Somehow it must 
have got out that we had gold, for as the dusk of evening was 
closing round us on the second day of our march we were at- 
tacked by some men on horseback — bush-rangers, I suppose. 
We showed fight, and I was hit in the shoulder. At the same 
time I stumbled over a stump and pitched on to my head, 
which stunned me. Just then, it seems, the sound of horses 
approaching frightened the scoundrels, and they made off. 
My mate, not knowing whether the new-comers were friends 
or foes, he says, got away as fast as he could. His story is 
that as soon as all was still he crept back, and finding me ap- 
parently quite dead, went on to report the catastrophe at the 
first road-side inn he came to. / believe that, thinking me 
dead, he took all my gold, and said precious little about me.” 

“ His story to me,” interrupted Mr. Newton, “ was that he 
got assistance and buried your remains as decently as he 
could.” 

“ What induced him to apply to }T)u at all?” 


A CROOKED PATH. 


277 


“ I do not know. I fancy it was to hand over a few small 
nuggets, which he said was your share of the findings, and which 
he took from your waistband before committing you to the 
grave. As he seemed frank and straightforward and quite 
poor, I confess 1 believed him, and even requested Mr. Lid- 
dell to give him some small present. He said he was going 
afloat again, and would sail in a few days. He had an old 
clasp-knife which I myself had given you, and with it a small 
pocket-book in which your name and my address were written 
in your own hand. These were tolerably convincing proofs 
that he at least knew you. Moreover, there seemed no need 
whatever that he should have made any attempt to communi- 
cate with your people. He might have held his tongue, and 
no question would have been raised respecting you.” 

46 You are right,” returned Liddell, bitterly. 

“ And how did you escape?” asked Katherine, with eager 
interest. 

“ He — this Tom Dunford — did go to the next inn and told 
of the attack; he even guided some men to the spot, and left 
them to bury me, because he was obliged to hurry on to Syd- 
ney; but I believe he returned, before going to the inn, and 
robbed me. Anyhow I was not killed by the bullet, but 
stunned by the fall. Some of the fellows who came with Tom 
fancied I did not seem quite dead. Finally I recovered, and 
instead of digging for gold myself, got others to dig for me. 
I set up an inn and a store, with the help of an American 
whose daughter I married, and now I am rich enough to be a 
formidable foe. I have a little girl, and when my wife died I 
determined to realize everything, to come to England, and 
have the child brought up as an English lady. On the voyage 
home I fell in with a man — a fellow of the rolling-stone order 
— to whom I used to 'talk now and again. He turned out to 
be the brother of one of your clerks, and from him 1 heard 
that my father had died intestate, that my cousin had taken 
possession of everything, and that I was looked upon as dead. 
Did you never attempt to prove the truth of Tom D unford's 
story?” 

“ We did. I communicated with the police of Sydney, and 
they found that there had been a fight between bush-rangers 
and diggers returning from Woollamaroo at the time and place 
specified; moreover, that one of the diggers was killed, while 
the other escaped, but further nothing was known. The man 
who kept the inn mentioned by Dunford had made money and 
moved off, so the track was broken. Then all these years you 





ipFp-'r ■ r * 


278 


A CROOKED PATH. 


made no sign. Did you not see the advertisements 1 put in 
an Australian paper ?” 

“No; I was far away from any town, and rarely saw any 
but the American papers which came to my master. Well, 
here I am, determined to have every inch of my rights, let 
who will stand in my way; and you ” — looking fiercely into 
Newton’s eyes — “ shall be my first witness.” 

“ I can not deny that I recognize you,” said Newton, re- 
luctantly. 

Liddell laughed scornfully. “ And you?” turning to Kath- 
erine. 

“ I have no doubt you are my cousin George. ” 

“ Eight! As to that fellow Tom — he would never have hurt 
me, but I am sure he robbed me, especially if he thought I 
were dead. His game was to hold himself harmless whether I 
lived or died, only he ought not to have committed himself to 
seeing me buried. I found him out in Liverpool, and gave 
him a fright, for he really believed me dead. Now, cousin, I 
hope you understand that I mean to take every farthing of 
my father’s fortune. He never did me much good in my life, 
nor my poor mother either, and 1 am determined to get all I 
can out of what he has left behind him. But 1 never dreamed 
he could pass away without taking care that nothing should 
come to me. It is strange that your mother and my uncle 
should make no fresh attempt to discover me.” 

“We had looked upon you as dead for years, and my father 
had died before the news of your supposed murder reached 
us.” Katherine could hardy steady her voice; she ! was burn- 
ing to get away. “ I beg you will not resent the fact of my 
most unconscious usurpation. I would not do anything un- 
just.” She stopped, remembering what she had done. Sure- 
ly the punishment was coming quick upop her. 

“ Ay,” said George Liddell, looking sternly at her. “ It is 
a bittter pill for a fine lady like you to swallow, to find a 
ragged outcast like me thrusting you from the place you have 
no right to, where my poor little wild untutored girl will take 
her stand in spite of you all.” 

“From what I have heard, I do not think my father or 
mother ever treated you as an outcast,” said Katherine, with 
quiet dignity; adding, as she rose to leave them: “ You seem 
so irritated against me I will leave you with Mr. Newton, who 
will, I know, act as a true friend to both of us. ” 

Mr. Newton, with a grave and troubled face, hastened after 
to see her to her carriage. “ This is an awful blow!” he said, 
in a low voice. 


A CROOKED PATH. 


27 9 


66 It is, no doubt. Do you think, as he says he is already 
rich, that he might do something for the boys? Then I should 
not care.” 

“ The boys!” — impatiently. “ You need not trouble about 
them when he has the power to rob you even of the trifle you 
inherit from your father by demanding the arrears of income 
since your uncle's death, as he has the right to do. Why, he 
can beggar you!” 

“ Indeed! He looks a hard man; he is like his father.” 

“ Well, trust me, I will do my best for you.” 

“I know you will,” returned Katherine, pressing the old 
lawyer's hand as he leaned against the carriage door. 

“Good-bye! God bless you!” he returned; and Katherine 
was carried away from # him. Slowly and sad]v the old man 
ascended to his office again to confront the angry claimant, 
who awaited him impatiently. 

Meantime Katherine was striving to think clearly, to rouse 
herself from the stunned, bewildered condition into which the 
appearance of George Liddell had thrown her, and which Mr. 
Newton's words increased. What was to become of Cis and 
Charlie if she were beggared? She could not face the pros- 
pect. There was still a way of escape left, a glimpse of which 
had been given to her as she listened to her cousin's vindictive 
utterances. If she could prevail on Errington to produce the 
will and assert his right, he would provide for those poor inno- 
cent boys, and never ask her for any of the money she had 
spent. May be he would share with George himself. She 
must see Errington at once, and with the strictest secrecy. 
Her thoughts cleared as, bit by bit, her plan unfolded itself in 
her busy brain. Then she made up her mind. Touching the 
check-string, she desired the driver to stop at a small fancy 
ware and stationer's shop near Miss Payne's house. Arrived 
there, she dismissed the carriage, saying she would walk 
home. 

“ Give me paper and an envelope; I want to write a few 
lines,” she said to the smiling shop-woman, who knew her to 
be one of their best customers. 

Having traced a few words entreating Errington to see her 
early next day — should he happen to be out or engaged — she 
hailed a hansom, and went as quickly as she could to his lodg- 
ings in the Temple. 

It was quite different, this second visit, from the first. He 
now knew all, and in spite of her fears and profound uneasi- 
ness she felt a thrill of pleasure at the idea of the necessity for 
taking counsel with him, the prospect of half an hour's undis- 


280 


A CROOKED PATH. 


turbed communication, of hearing his voice, and feeling his 
kind forgiving glance. Still it was an awful trial too — to tell 
him the upshot of her dishonesty, the confusion she had 
wrought by her deviation into a crooked path. She was 
trembling from head to foot by the time she reached Erring- 
ton's abode. 

A severe-looking woman, a caretaker apparently, was on 
the stair as Katherine ascended, feeling dreadfully puzzled 
what to do, as she feared having to knock in vain and go away 
without leaving her note. 

44 Can you tell me if Mr. Errington is at home?” she asked, 
timidly, quite frightened at the sound of her own voice in so 
strange a place. 

44 1 am sure I don't know, miss. I dare say he's gone out. 
He is up the next flight . 99 

44 May I ask you to inquire if he is in? If not, would you 
be so kind as to leave this note?” 

The woman took it with a rather discontented, suspicious 
air, but finding it was accompanied by a coin of the realm, went 
on her errand with great alacrity. Katherine followed slowly. 

44 You're to walk up at once; he's hin,” said the emissary, 
meeting her at the top of the stair. 

At the door stood Errington, her note in his hand, and a 
serious, uneasy expression on his countenance. Katherine was 
very white; her eyes were dilated with a look of fear and dis- 
tress. 

44 Pray come in,” said Errington; and he closed the door 
behind her. 44 1 fear you are in some difficulty. You can 
speak without reserve; I am quite alone.” 

Katherine was aware of passing through a small room with 
doors right and left, and possessing only a couple of chairs and 
a small table; through this Errington led her to his sitting- 
room, which was almost lined with books, and comfortably 
furnished. He placed a chair for her, and returned to his own 
seat by a table at which he had been writing. 

44 The last time I came it was in the hope of assisting you 
by my confession; now I have come to beg for your help — 99 
She stopped abruptly. 44 My uncle's son George, who was be- 
lieved to have been killed by bush-rangers in Australia more 
than fourteen years ago, has returned, alive and well.” 

44 But can he prove his identity?” 

44 1 was with Mr. Newton when he came into the office, and 
the moment Mr. Newton saw him he started up, exclaiming, 
■* George Liddell!' and 1 — I saw the likeness t q his father/ 3 
“ Did Newton, know him formerly?'* 


A CROOKED PATH* 


281 


“ Yes; he seems to have been almost his only friend.” 

‘ c How was it he did not put in an appearance and assert 
his rights before?” 

“ I will tell you all. ” And she went on to describe the in- 
terview which had just taken place, the curious vindictive 
spirit which her cousin displayed, his very recent knowledge 
of his father’s death, and Mr. Newton’s words of warning: 
“ He has the power to rob you even of the trifle you inherit 
from your father, by demanding the arrears of income since 
your uncle's death; he can beggar you.” 

“ No doubt he can, but surely he will not!” exclaimed Er- 
rington. 

“ It seems to me that if he can he will. To give him up 
that which is his is quite right, and will not cost me a pang; 
but to be penniless, to send back my poor dear little boys, to 
be considered and treated as burdens by their mother and 
Colonel Ormonde — oh,' I can not bear it! I know how Char- 
lie would be crushed and Cecil would be hardened. It is for 
this I come to you for help. Mr. Errington, I implore you to 
produce the will which puts this cruelty out of George Lid- 
dell’s power. Surely you might say that, not liking to disin- 
herit me, you suppressed it? This is true, you know.” 

“ The will!” exclaimed Errington, starting up and pacing 
the room in great agitation. “ My God! I have destroyed it. 
Thinking it safer for you that it should be out of the way, I 
destroyed it, and by so doing I have given you, bound hand 
and foot, into the power of this man. Can you forgive me? — 
can you ever forgive me?” He took and wrung her hand, 
holding it for a moment, while he looked imploringly into her 
eyes. 

“ Oh, yes, I do heartily forgive you. You only did it to 
save me from any chance of discovery. If only George Lid- 
dell will be satisfied not to claim the money I have spent, I 
may still be able to keep the boys, for I have nearly a hundred 
and fifty pounds a year quite my own,” cried Katherine, loos- 
ing her hand. “ Do not distress yourself, Mr. Errington. 1 
know Mr. Newton will do his best for me, and perhaps my 
cousin will not exact the arrears. He says he is rich, and if I 
give him no trouble — ” She paused, for she could not com- 
mand her voice, while the tears were already glittering in her 
eyes. Another word and they would have been rolling down 
her cheeks. 

“Don’t cry, for God’s sake!” said Errington, in a low 
tone, resuming his seat. “ What can be done to soften this 


283 


A CROOKED PATH. 




fellow? Ah! Miss Liddell, we are quits now. If you robbed 
me, I have ruined you. ” 

“ From what different motives!” said Katherine, recovering 
her self-control. “ I am still the wrong-doer.” 

How heavenly sweet it was to be consoled and sympathized 
with by him! But she dared not stay. It was terribly bold 
of her to have come to his rooms, only he would never mis- 
judge her, and she was so little known she scarcely feared 
recognition by any one she might meet. 

“ Could 1 assist Mr. Newton at all in dealing with this kins- 
man of yours?” resumed Errington, gazing at her with a 
troubled look. 

“ I fear you could not. How are you to know anything of 
my troubles? No one dreams that you have any knowledge of 
my affairs; that you and you only are aware what an impostor 
I am.” 

“ You are expiating your offense bitterly. But when the 
story of this George Liddell comes out, why should I not, as 
the son of his father's old friend, make his acquaintance, and 
try to persuade him to forego his full rights?” 

“ You might try,” said Katherine, dejectedly. “ Now I 
have trespassed long enough. I must go. I have to explain 
matters to Miss Payne, and 1 feel curiously dazed. Oh, if I 
can keep the boys!” 

“ If any effort of mine can help you, it is my duty as well 
as my sincere pleasure to do all I can.” 

“ And if the will existed, would you have acted on it?” 

“ Most certainly — in your defense.” 

“Ah!” cried Katherine, her eyes lighting up, her tremu- 
lous lips parting in a smile. “ Then you would have had some 
of the money too. ” 

“ Then you quite forgive me?” again rising, and coming 
over to stand beside her. 

“ You must feel I do, Mr. Errington. Now I will say 
good-bye. If you can help me with George, I shall be most 
grateful.” 

“ Promise that you will look on me as one of your most de- 
voted friends. ” He took her hand again. 

“ Can you indeed feel friendship for one you can not re- 
spect?” she returned, in a low tone, with* one of the quick, 
vivid blushes which usually rose to her cheek when she was 
much moved. 

“ But I do respect you. Why should I not? A generous, 
impulsive woman like you can not be judged by the cold 


A CROOKED PATH. 283 

maxims of exact justice; you must be tried by the higher rules 
of equity.” 

“ You comfort me,” said Katherine, with indescribably 
sweet graceful humility. “ I thank you heartily, and will say 
good-bye . 9 9 

“ I will come and see you into a cab,” returned Errington, 
feeling himself anxious that no one should recognize her, and 
not knowing when their tete-a-tete might be interrupted. 

They went out together, and walked a little way in silence. 
“ You will let me come and see you, to hear — ” began Erring- 
ton, when Katherine interrupted him. 

“Not just now. I think we had better not seem to know 
anything of each other, or perhaps George Liddell may suspect 
you of being my friend.” 

“ I see. But at least you will keep me informed of how 
things go on. Remember how tormented I am with remorse 
for my hasty act. ” 

“ You need not be. But I will write. There — there is a 
cab.” 

Errington hailed it, handed her in carefully, and they said 
good-bye with a sudden sense of intimacy which months of or- 
dinary communication would not have produced. 

It was a very serious undertaking to break the intelligence 
to Miss Payne, and poor Katherine felt quite exhausted before 
her exclamations, questions, and wonderings were half over. 

On one or two points Miss Payne at once made up her 
mind, nor did she ever quite alter her opinion : this man repre- 
senting himself as George Liddell was an impostor who had 
known the real “ Simon Pure,” and got himself up accord- 
ingly as soon as he heard that the late John Liddell had died 
intestate; that Mr. Newton was a weak-minded, credulous 
idiot to acknowledge this impostor at first sight, if he were 
not a double-dealing traitor ready to play into the hands of 
the new claimant. He ought to have thrown the onus of 
proof on him, instead of acknowledging his identity by that 
childish exclamation. Don't tell her that he was startled out 
of prudence and precaution. A spirit from above or below 
would not have thrown her (Miss Payne) off her guard where 
property was concerned, and what was the use of men's supe- 
rior strength and courage if they could not hold their tongues 
in presence of an unexpected apparition? 

She was, however, profoundly disturbed, and sent at once 
for her brother. 

It was evening before he arrived in Wilton Street, having 


284 


A CROOKED PATH. 


gone out before Miss Payne's note reached him. Like Erring- 
ton, he was at first incredulous, and when he had gathered the 
facts of the case, absolutely overcome. In fact, he showed 
more emotion than Errington, yet it did not impress Kath- 
erine so much as Errington' s deep, suppressed feeling. 

“ But what are you to do?" he said, raising his head, which 
he had bowed on his hand in a kind of despair. 

“ It is just the question 1 have been asking myself," said 
Katherine, quietly. “ For even if dear old Mr. Newton suc- 
ceeds in softening George Liddell, and he forgives me the out- 
lay of what was certainly his money, the little that belongs to 
myself I shall want for my nephews." 

“ And pray is their mother to contribute nothing toward the 
maintenance of her children?" asked Miss Payne, severely. 

“ Poor Ada! she has nothing of her own; it will be desper- 
ately hard on her;" and Katherine sighed deeply. Her hear- 
ers little knew the remorse that afflicted her as she reflected 
on the false position into which she had drawn her sister-in- 
law. What a rage Colonel Ormonde would be in! How un- 
wisely audacious it was in any mere mortal to play Providence 
for herself or her fellows*! But Miss Payne was speaking: 

“ I don't see the hardship; she has a husband behind her — 
a rich man too.’' 

“ For herself it is all well enough, but it must be very hard 
to think that one's children are a burden on a reluctant hus- 
band; besides, the boys will feel it cruelly. Oh, if I can only 
keep them with me!" 

“1 understand you," cried Bertie. “ Would to God you 
could lay your burden at His feet who alone can help in time 
of need. If you could — " 

He was interrupted by Francis, who brought a letter just 
arrived by the last post. 

6 ‘ It is from Mr. Newton," exclaimed Katherine, opening it 
eagerly. And having read it rapidly, she added, “ You would 
like to hear what he says: 

“ 6 My dear Miss Liddell, — As I can not see you early 
to-morrow 1 will send you a report. I had a long argument 
with your cousin after you left to-day, and although he is still 
in an unreasonable state of irritation against you and myself 
and every one, I do not despair of bringing him to a better 
and a juster frame of mind. For the present it would be as 
well you did not meet. I should advise your taking steps at 
once to remove your nephews from Sandbourne, and also, 
>vhile you have money, pay the quarter in advance, as you do 


A CROOKED PATH. 


285 


not know how matters may turn. It was a most fortunate 
circumstance that the house occupied by Miss Trant was pur- 
chased in her name, as Mr. Liddell can not touch that, and if 
she is at all the woman you suppose her to be, she will pay 
you interest for your money. If you could only persuade your 
cousin to let you see and make friends with this little daughter 
of his — there lies the road to his heart. 

4 4 4 Meanwhile say as little as possible to any one about this 
sudden change in your fortunes. To Miss Payne you must, of 
course, explain matters; but she is a sensible, prudent woman. 

44 4 With sincere sympathy, believe me yours must truly, 

4 4 4 W. JJewtok.' " 

44 There is a gleam of hope, then/* exclaimed Bertie. 

44 1 don't know what you mean about hope. At best a drop 
from about two thousand a year to a hundred and fifty is not 
a subject for congratulation. Well, Katherine, you are most 
welcome to stay here as my guest till you find something to 
do, for find something you must." 

44 1 knew you would be kind and true," said Katherine, her 
voice a little tremulous, 44 and believe me I will not sit with 
folded hands." 


CHAPTER XXV. 

44 BREAD CAST OJST THE WATERS." 

There were indeed long and heavy days for Katherine, few 
though they were, before Mr. Newton thought it well to com- 
municate the intelligence to Colonel and Mrs. Ormonde. He 
wished to be able to extract some more favorable terms from 
Liddell, so that his favorite client might fulfill her ardent de- 
sire to keep her nephews still with her, and assist in their 
maintenance and education. This was, in the shrewd old law- 
yer's estimation, a most quixotic project, but he saw it was 
the only idea which enabled her to bear the extreme distress 
caused by the prospect of returning the poor children on their 
mother's hands. 

A period of uncertainty is always trying, and the reflection 
that the present crisis was the result of her unfortunate in- 
fringement of the unalterable law of right and wrong over- 
whelmed her with a sense of guilt. Had sne not meddled with 
the matter, no doubt such a man as Errington would, were the 
case properly represented to him, have given some portion of 
the wealth bequeathed him to the family of the testator. But 
how could she have foreseen? True; but she might have re- 


286 


A CROOKED PATH. 


sis ted the temptation to deviate from the straight path. “ She 
might !" What an abyss of endless regret yawns at the sound 
of those words, used in the sense of too late! 

This was a hard worldly trouble over which she could not 
weep. Over and over again she told herself that nothing 
should part her from the boys, that she would devote her life 
to repair as far as possible the injury she had done them. And 
Ada, would she also suffer for her (Katherine's) sins? But 
while brooding constantly on these miserable thoughts she 
kept a brave front, quiet and steady, though Miss Payne saw 
that her composure hid a good deal of suffering. 

It was more, however, than Katherine's resolution could ac- 
complish to keep a few evening engagements which she had 
made. “ I should feel too great an impostor," she said. 
“ How thankful I shall be when the murder is out and the 
nine-days' wonder over! Have you any commissions, dear 
Miss Payne? I want an object to take me out, and I feel I 
must not mope in-doors." 

“ No, I can not say I have any shopping to do, and I am 
obliged to go into the city myself. Take a steady round of 
Kensington Gardens; it is quite mild and bright to-day. I 
shall not return till six, I am afraid." 

So Katherine went out alone immediately after luncheon, 
before the world and his wife had time to get abroad. She 
had made a circuit of the ornamental water, and was returning 
by the footpath near the sunk fence which separates the Gar- 
dens from the park, when she recognized De Burgh coming 
toward her. He had been in her thoughts at the moment; 
for, feeling that' it was quite likely he had been considered a 
suitor, she was anxious to give him an opportunity of making 
an honorable retreat before society found out that the scepter 
of wealth had slipped from her hand. 

“ Pray, is this the way you cure a cold?" he asked, abrupt- 
ly. “ Last night Lady Mary Vincent informed me that you 
had stayed at home to nurse a cold. This morning I call to 
inquire for the interesting invalid, and find she is out in the 
cool February air." 

“It is very mild, and it is at night the air is dangerous," 
returned Katherine, smiling. 

“ Now I look at you, I do not think you look so blooming 
as usual. May I go back with- you and pay my visit of con- 
dolence, in spite of having left my card?" 

“ Yes," said Katherine, with sudden decision. “ I want to 
speak to you. " 


A CROOKED PATH. 287 

“Indeed!” with a keen, eager look. “This is something 
new. May I ask — ” 

“ No; not until we are in Miss Payne's drawing-room.” 

“ You alarm me. Could it be possible that you, peerless as 
you are, have got into a scrape?” 

“Well, 1 think I can say I have,” said Katherine, smiling. 

“ Great heavens! this is delightful.” 

“ Let us talk of something else.” 

“ By all means. Will you hear some gossip? I don't often 
retail any, but I fancy you'll be amused and interested to 
know that Lady Alice Mordaunt is really going to marry that 
brewer fellow. You remember I told you what I thought 
was going on last autumn.” 

“Is it possible?” cried Katherine. “ Imagine her so soon 
forgetting Mr. Errington!” 

“And why should that immaculate individual be exempt 
from the usual fate of man?” 

“ 1 don't know — except that he is not an ordinary man.” 

“No; certainly not. H8 is an extraordinary fellow; but I 
must say he has shown great staying power in his late diffi- 
culties. They tell me he has been revenging himself by writ- 
ing awful problems, political and critical, which require a 
forty-horse intellectual power to understand.” And De Burgh 
talked on, seeing that his companion was disinclined to speak 
until they reached Miss Payne's house. 

Katherine took off her hat and warm cloak with some de- 
liberation, thinking how best to approach her subject. Push- 
ing back her hair, which had become somewhat disordered 
from its own weight, she sat down on an ottoman, and raising 
her eyes to De Burgh, who stood on the hearth-rug, said, 
slowly, “ I have a secret to tell you which you must keep for 
a few weeks . 99 

“ For an eternity, if you will trust me,” he returned, in 
low, earnest tones, his dark eyes fixed upon her, as if trying 
to read her heart. 

“ Well, then, my uncle's son and heir, whom we believed to 
be dead, has suddenly reappeared, and of course takes the fort- 
une I have been, let us say, enjoying.” 

De Burgh did not reply at once; his eyes continued to search 
her face as if to discover some hidden meaning. 

“ Do you mean me to take you seriously, Miss Liddell?” 

“ Quite. Morever, 1 fear my cousin means to demand the 
arrears of income — income which I have spent.” 

“ But the fellow must be an impostor. Your man of busi- 


288 


A CROOKED PATH. 


ness, Newton, will never yield to his demands. He must prove 
his case . 99 

“ I think he has proved it. Mr. Newton recognized him at 
the first glance; and he bears a strong resemblance to his fa- 
ther. I feel he is the man he asserts himself to be . 99 

“ Do you intend to give up without a struggle? What ac- 
count does this intruder give of himself?” 

Katherine gave him a brief sketch of the story, speaking 
with firmness and composure. 

“ What an infernal shame!” cried De Burgh, when she 
ceased speaking. “ I wish 1 had had a chance of sending a 
bullet through his head, and as sure as there is a devil down 
below, Fd have verified the report of his death! Why, what 
is to be done?” 

“ I still faintly hope Mr. Newton may persuade him to fore- 
go his first demand for the restoration of those moneys I have 
spent. If so, I am not quite penniless, and can hope to — 
At all events, I thought it but right to give you early informa- 
tion, as — 99 Q 

“ Why?” interrupted De Burgh (for she hesitated), throw- 
ing himself on the ottoman and leaning against the arm which 
divided the seats, till his long dark mustache nearly touched 
the coils of her hair. “ Why?” he repeated, as she did not 
answer immediately. “ I know well enough. It is your 
loyalty that makes you wish to open a way of escape to the 
friend who is credited with seeking your fortune. I see it 
all.” 

“ You can assign any motive you like, Mr. De Burgh, but 
1 thought — I wished — I believed it better to let you know; for 
I shall always consider you my friend, even if we do not 
meet,” said Katherine, a good deal unhinged by the excite- 
ment and distress he displayed. 

“Meet? why, of course, we shall meet! . Do you think 
anything in heaven or earth would make me give up the at- 
tempt, hopeless as it may seem, to win you? 1 know you 
don’t care a rap for me now, but I can not, dare not despair. 
I’ve too much at stake. There is the awful sting of this mis- 
fortune. Even if you, by some blessed intervention of Provi- 
dence, were ready to marry me, 1 don’t see how I could drag 
you into such a sea of trouble. Besides, there’s old De Burgh; 
he must be kept in good humor. By Heaven! this miserable 
want of money is the most utter degradation — irresistible, 
enslaving. I feel like a beaten cur. I am tied hand and 
foot. Had I not been such a reckless idiot, why, your mis- 
fortunes might have been my best chance. I dare say that 


A CROOKED PATH. 


289 


sounds shabby enough, but I like to let you see what I am, 
good and bad; besides, I am ready to do anything, right or 
wrong, to win you.” 

64 Ah, Mr. De Burgh, no crookedness ever succeeds. And 
then I do not deserve that you should think so much or care 
so much for me, for I do not wish to marry you or any one. 
My plan of life is framed on quite different lines. Do put me 
out of your mind, and think of your own fortunes. Do not 
vex Lord de Burgh; but oh, pray give up racing and gam- 
bling. You know I really do like you, not exactly in the way 
you wish, but it adds greatly to my troubles (for I am very 
sorry to lose my fortune, I assure you) to see you so — so dis- 
turbed. ” 

66 If you look at me so kindly with those sweet, wet eyes I 
shall lose my head,” cried De Burgh, who was already almost 
beside himself, for the gulf which had suddenly yawned be- 
tween him and the woman he coveted seemed to grow wider as 
he looked at it. “ 1 am the most unlucky devil in existence, 
and 1 have brought you ill luck. I should have kept away 
from you, for you are a hundred thousand times too good for 
me; but as I have thrown myself headlong into the delicious 
pain of loving you, won't you give me a chance? Promise to 
wait for me : a week, a day, may see me wealthy, and 1 swear 
I will strive to be worthy too: why were those bush-rangers 
such infernally bad shots? and I can be no use to you what- 
ever?” 

“ But I have many kind friends, Mr. De Burgh. You 
must not distress yourself about me. I am not frightened, I 
assure you. Now I have told you everything, don't you think 
you would better go?” She rose as she spoke, and held out 
her hand. 

“ Better for you, yes, but not for me. Look here, Kath- 
erine, don't banish me. I am obliged to go with old De Burgh 
to Paris. He is making for Cannes again, and asked me to 
come so far. Of course he has a chain round my neck. I 
must obey orders like his bond-slave, but when I come back — 
don't banish me. I swear I'll be an unobtrusive friend, and I 
may be of use. Don't send me quite away; in short, I won't 
take a dismissal. What is it you object to? What absurd 
stories have been told you to set you against me? Other 
women have liked me well enough.” 

“ 1 have no doubt you deserve to be loved, Mr. De Burgh, 
but there are feelings that, like the wind, blow where they 
list; we can not tell whence they come or whither they go. I 
am sorry I do not love you, but — I am very tired. If you 


290 


A CROOKED PATH. 


care to come and see me when you come back, come if 1 have 
any place in which to receive you.” 

44 If I write, will you answer my letters?” 

4 4 Oh, no; don't write; I would rather you did not.” 

44 1 am a brute to keep you when you look so white; I'll go. 
Good-bye for the present — only for the present, you dear, 
sweet woman!” He kissed her hand twice and went quickly 
out of the room. 

Katherine heaved a sigh of relief. The degree of liking she 
had for De Burgh made her feel greatly distressed at having 
been obliged to give him pain. Yet she was not by any means 
disposed to trust him; his restless eagerness to gratify every 
whim and desire as it came to him, the kind of harshness 
which made him so indifferent to the feelings and opinions of 
those who opposed him; this was very repellent to Katherine's 
more considerate and sympathetic nature. Besides, and above 
all, De Burgh was not Errington; and it needs no more to ex- 
plain why the former, who had no reason hitherto to complain 
of the coldness of women, found the only one he had ever 
loved with a high order of affection untouched by his wooing. 

The day after this interview Katherine, accompanied by 
Miss Payne, went down to Sandbourne to interview the prin- 
cipal of the boys' school, to explain the state of affairs, to give 
notice that she should be obliged to remove them, and to pay 
in advance for the time they were to remain. 

The visit was full of both pain and pleasure. The genuine 
delight of the children on seeing her unexpectedly, their joy 
at being permitted to go out to walk with her, their innocent 
talk, and the castles in the air which they erected in the firm 
conviction that they were to have horses and dogs, men-serv- 
ants and maid-servants, all the days of their lives, touched her 
heart. The principal gave a good account of both. Cecil 
was, he said, erratic and excitable in no common degree, but 
though troublesome, he was truthful and straightforward, 
while Charlie promised to develop qualities of no common 
order. He entered with a very friendly spirit into the anxiety 
of the young aunt, whose motherly tenderness for her nephews 
touched him greatly. He gave her some valuable advice, and 
the address of two schools regulated to suit parents of small 
means, and which he could safely recommend. By his sug- 
gestion nothing was said for the present to Cis or Charlie re- 
garding the impending change, lest they should be unsettled. 

44 And shall we come to stay at Miss Payne's for the Easter 


A CROOKED PATH. 


291 


holidays?” cried the boys in chorus, as Katherine took leave 
of them the next day. 

“ I hope so, dears, but I am not sure.” 

44 Then will you come down to Sandbourne? That would 
be jolly.” 

44 I can not promise, Cecil. We will see. ” 

44 But, auntie, we’ll not have to go to Castleford?” 

44 Why? Would you not like to go?” 

44 No. Would you, Charlie? I don’t like being there 
nearly so much as at school. I don’t like having dinner by 
ourselves, and yet I don’t care to dine with Colonel Ormonde; 
he is always in a wax.” 

44 He does not mean to be cross,” said Katherine, her heart 
sinking within her. Should she be obliged to hand over the 
poor little helpless fellows to the reluctant guardianship of 
their irritable step-father? This would indeed be a pang. 
Was it for this she had broken the law, and marred the har- 
mony of her own moral nature? 

66 Well, my own dear, I will do the best I can for you, you 
may be quite sure. Now you must let me go; 1 will come 
again as soon as I can. ” Cis kissed her heartily, and scam- 
pered away to take his place in the class-room, quite content 
with his school life. Charlie threw his arms around his 
auntie’s neck, and clung to her lovingly. But he too was 
called away, and nothing remained for Katherine and her 
comjjanion but to make their way to the station and return to 
town. 

This visit cost Katherine more than any other outcome of 
George Liddell’s reappearance. Her quick imagination de- 
picted what the boys’ lives would be under the jurisdiction qf 
their mother and her husband — the worries, the suppression, 
the sense of being always naughty and in the wrong, the differ- 
ent yet equally pernicious effect such treatment would have 
on the brothers. 

44 This is the worst part of the business to you,” said Miss 
Payne, when they had reached home and sat down to a later 
tea together. 44 You look like a ghost, or as if you had seen 
one. You will make yourself ill, and really there is no need 
to do anything of the kind. Those children have a mother 
who is very well off. 1 always thought it frightfully impru- 
dent of you to take those boys ev^n when you had plenty of 
money. Now, of course, when it is impossible for you to 
keep them, it is a bitter wrench to part, but — ” 

44 But 1 am not sure that we must part,” interrupted 
Katherine, eagerly. 44 Should my cousin be induced to forego 


292 


A CROOKED PATH. 

his claims upon me for the income I have expended, and I 
can find some means of maintaining myself, 1 could still pro- 
vide for their school expenses and keep them with me.” 

“ Maintain yourself, my dear Katherine; it is easier said 
than done. You are quite infatuated about those nephews of 
yours, and I dare say they will give you small thanks.” 

“ I know it is not easy for an untrained woman like myself 
to find remunerative work, but 1 shall try. Here is a note 
from Mr. Newton asking me to call on him to-morrow. Let 
us hope he will have some good news, though I can not help 
fearing he would have told me in this if he had.” 

It was with a sickening sensation of uneasy hope shot with 
dark streaks of fear that Katherine started to keep her ap- 
pointment with Mr. Newton. Eager to begin her economy at 
once, Katherine took an omnibus instead of indulging in a 
brougham or a cab. She could not help smiling at her own 
sense of helpless discomfort when a fat woman almost sat down 
upon her, and the conductor told her to look sharp when the 
vehicle stopped to let her alight; as she re fleeted that barely 
three years ago she considered an omnibus rather a luxury, 
and that it was a matter of careful calculation how many 
pennies might be saved by walking to certain points whence 
one could travel at a reduced fare. How easily are luxurious 
and self-indulgent habits formed! Well, she had done with 
them forever now; nor would anything seem a hardship were 
she but permitted to repair in some measure the evil she had 
wrought. 

She found Mr. Newton awaiting her with evident impatience. 

“ Well, my dear Miss Liddell,” he said, I have been most 
anxious to see you, though I have not much that is cheering 
to communicate. I have had several interviews with your j 
cousin, but he seems still unaccountably hard and vindictive, i 
However, as I am, of course, your adviser, he has been obliged 
to seek another solicitor, and I am happy to say he has fallen 
into good hands, and that by a sort of lucky chance.” 

“ How?” asked Katherine, who was looking pale and feel- 
ing in the depths. 

“ Well, a few days ago a gentleman called here to ask me 
for the address of a former client of whom I have heard noth- 
ing for years. I think you know or have met this gentleman S 
—Mr. Errington.” 

44 1 do,” cried Katherine, now all attention. 

“ While we were speaking Mr. Liddell was announced. \ 
Errington looked at him hard, and then asked politely if he 1 
were the son of the late Mr. John Liddell, who had been a I 


A CROOKED PATH. 


293 


great friend of his (Errington's) father. Your cousin seemed 
to know the name, and, moreover, very pleased at being 
spoken to and remembered. Mr. Errington offered to call, 
and now I find he has recommended his own solicitors, Messrs. 
Compton & Barnes, to George Liddell. I had an interview 
with the head of the firm yesterday, and he has evidently ad- 
vised that the strictly legal claims against you should not be 
pressed. I can not help thinking that Mr. Errington has in- 
terested himself on your side.” 

4 6 Indeed!” cried Katherine, life and warmth coming back 
to her heart at his words. 

“ Yes, I do. Compton appears to have the highest possible 
opinion of Errington as a man of integrity and intelligence. 
He, Compton says, believes that if Liddell could be persuaded 
such a line of conduct toward you would injure him socially 
he would not seek to enforce his rights, for he is evidently 
anxious to make a position in the respectable world. As you 
make no opposition to his claims, he ought to show you con- 
sideration. This accidental encounter between Errington and 
your cousin will, I am sure, prove a fortunate circumstance.” 

In her own mind Katherine could not help doubting its 
accidental character. How infinitely good and forgiving 
Errington was! While she thought, Mr. Newton mused. 

44 1 suppose you have a tolerable balance at the bank?” he 
said, abruptly. 

64 Yes. I have never spent a year's income in a year. Just 
lately, except for buying that house, 1 have spent very little.” 

‘ 4 That house! Oh — ah! I shall be curious to see how Miss 
Trant will behave. If she is true to her word ; if she looks 
upon your loan to her as a loan — an investment on your side* 
— you may gain an addition to your income through what was 
an act of pure benevolence. When you go home, my dear 
young lady, look at your bank-book, and let me know exactly 
how you stand. We might offer this cormorant of a cousin a 
portion of your savings to finish the business. Indeed, I 
should advise you to draw a good large check at once so as to 
jwovide yourself with ready money.” 

“ Would it be quite— quite honest to do so?” asked Kath- 
erine, anxiously. 

“ Pray, do you impugn my integrity?” 

“No! But suppose George Liddell found I had drawn a 
large check— perhaps the very day before I propose through 
you to hand over what remains to me — he would think me a 
cheat?” 

“ And pray why should he know anything about your bank- 


294 


A BROOKED PATH. 


book? or what consideration do you owe him? He is behav- 
ing very harshly and badly to you. We will state what is in 
the bank after you have drawn your check, and offer him half 
—which is a great deal too much for him. Yet I should like 
him to be your friend, if possible. Could you get hold of that 
little girl of his? Affection for her seems to be the only hu- 
man thing about him.” 

“ 1 think I should rather have nothing to do with him,” 
murmured Katherine. 

“ Well, well, we will see. Now, though we have not suc- 
ceeded in coming to any settlement with Liddell, I believe we 
ought not to leave Mrs. Ormonde any longer in ignorance re- 
specting the change which has taken place.” 

46 No. I am sure the§ ought to know. I have been troubling 
myself about both the colonel and Mrs. Ormonde,” said Kath- 
erine. “ This is what I dread most.” And she sighed. 

“I do not see why you need. 1 am sure you acted with 
noble liberality to Mrs. Ormonde and her boys when you 
thought you were the rightful owner of the property. ” 

“ The rightful owner,” repeated Katherine, with a thrill of 
pain. “ It has been an unfortunate ownership to me.” 

“ It has — it has, indeed, my dear young lady, but we must 
see how to help you at this juncture. If Miss Trant behaves 
as she ought, we must put a little more capital in that con- 
cern if it is as thriving as you believe. It may turn out very 
useful to you.” 

“ 1 have not seeri her since my cousin came to life again, 
for 1 could not see her and keep back my strange story. 
May I tell her now?” 

“ Certainly. It was from Colonel and Mrs. Ormonde I 
wished to keep back the disastrous news till some agreement 
should be come to. ” 

“You must not call my cousin’s return to life and country 
disastrous,” said Katherine, smiling. “ l am sure, if he will ; 
only give me the chance of keeping my boys with me, I am j 
quite ready to welcome him to both. Now 1 shall leave you, J 
for I want to send away my letter to Ada this evening, and it 
is a difficult letter to write.” 

“ I have no doubt you will state your case clearly and well,” 
returned Mr. Newton, rising to shake hands with her. “ Let 
me hear what Mrs. Ormonde says in reply; and see your j 
protegee, Miss Trant. I am anxious to learn her views.” 

“ I am quite sure 1 know what they will be,” said Kath- 
erine. 

“ Don’t be too sure. Human nature is a very crooked 


A CROOKED PATH. 295 

tiling — more crooked than a true heart like yours can im- 
agine / 7 continued the old man, holding her hand kindly. 

“ Ah, Mr. Newton / 7 she cried, with an irresistible outburst 
of penitence, “ you little know what crooked things I can im- 
agine. 77 

“ Can 7 t l ? 77 he said, laughing at what he fancied was her 
little joke, and glad to see her bearing her troubles so lightly. 
“ YouTl come all right yet, my dear; you have the right spirit. 
Is your carriage waiting ? 77 

Not here; but in Holborn I have several at my com- 
mand / 7 she returned. “’Good-bye; no, you must not come 
down-stairs; it is damp and chill . 77 

On reaching her home, the home she must so soon resign, 
Katherine sent a note to Rachel Trant asking if she had a 
spare hour that evening, as she, Katherine, had something to 
tell her, and preferred going to her house. Then she sat down 
to write a full and detailed account of what had taken place to 
her sister-in-law. It was dusk before she had finished, and 
she herself felt considerably exhausted. Miss Payne had gone 
out to dine with one of her former girls, now the wife of a 
rackety horsy man, whose conduct made her often look back 
with a sigh of regret to the tranquil days passed under the 
guardianship of the prudent spinster; so having partaken of 
tea at their usual dinner-time she sat and mused awhile on the 
'one subject from which she could derive comfort — Errington 
and his wonderful kindness to her. If he took the matter in 
hand she thought herself safe. Her confidence in him was 
unbounded. Ah! why had she placed such a gulf between 
them? How she had destroyed her own life! There was but 
one tie between her and the world, little Charlie and Cis, and 
perhaps she had been their greatest enemy. She almost wished 
she could love De Burgh. He was undoubtedly in earnest; 
he interested her; he — But no. Between her and any possi- 
ble husband she had reared the insurmountable barrier of a 
secret not to be shared by any save one, from whom, some- 
how, instead of dividing her, had bound her indissolubly; at 
least she felt it to be so. 

It was near the hour she had fixed to call on Rachel, so she 
roused herself, and asking the amiable Frangois to accompany 
her, started for Malden Street. 

Rachel Trant had made a back parlor, designated “ the try- 
ing-on 77 room, bright and cozy, with a shaded lamp, a red 
fire, a couple of easy-chairs at either side of it, and a gay cloth 
over the small round table erst strewn with fashion books, 
measuring tapes, pins, patterns, and pin-cushions. 


296 


A CROOKED PATH. 


44 How very good of you to come to me!” cried Miss Trant, 
hastening to divest her friend of bonnet and cloak. 44 1 am 
very curious to hear the story you have to tell.” Then, as 
Katherine sat down where the lamp-light fell upon her face, 
she added, 44 But you are not looking well. Miss Liddell; your 
eyes look heavy; your mouth is sad.” 

44 I am troubled, more than sad,” said Katherine; 64 the 
why and wherefore I have come to tell you.” 

44 Yes; tell me everything.” And Rachel took a low seat 
opposite her guest; her usually pale face was slightly flushed, 
her large blue eyes darkened with the pleasure of seeing the 
friend she loved so warmly and the interest with which she 
awaited her disclosure, and as Katherine looked at her she 
realized how pretty and attractive she must have been before 
the fresh grace of her girlhood had been withered by the cruel 
fires of passion and despair. 4 4 1 am listening,” said Kachel, 
gently, to recall her visitor, whose thoughts were evidently far 
away. 

44 Yes; 1 had forgotten.” And Katherine began her story. 

Kachel Trant listened with rapt, intense attention, nor did 
she interrupt the narrative by a single question. 

When Katherine ceased to speak she remained silent for a 
second or two longer; then she asked, 46 Are you convinced of 
the truth of this man’s story?” 

44 1 am, for Mr. Newton does not seem to have a doubt. 
Oh! he is my uncle John’s only son — only child indeed — and 
he is like him. 1 always fancied from the little my uncle said 
about George that he was naturally kind and sympathetic, 
but he has had a hard life, and it has. made him hard. The 
loss of his mother was a terrible misfortune.” 

44 Was he young when she died?” 

44 He was about fourteen, 1 think; but he lost her by a 
worse misfortune than death. She was driven away by my 
uncle’s severity and harshness; she left him for another.” 

44 What! left her son?” 

44 Yes — it seems incredible — nor does my cousin resent her 
desertion. On the contrary, all the affection and softness in 
him appears to center round his daughter and the memory of 
his mother.” 

44 Then,” said Rachel, 44 if this man persists in demanding 
his rights, you will be beggared, and those dear boys must go 
back to their mother. They will not be too welcome. ” 

44 Oh, no! no! I feel that only too keenly. ” 

44 But you will not be penniless nor homeless,” cried Kachel. 
44 He can not touch this house. You made it over to me, and 


A CROOKED PATH. 


297 


1 will use it for you. There are two nice rooms 1 can arrange 
for you upstairs. 1 am doing well, and if I had but a little 
more capital, I should not fear; I should not doubt making a 
great success. My dear, dearest Miss Liddell, I may be of use 
to you, after all. Tell me, is this Mr. Newton truly interested 
in you — anxious to help you?” 

I am sure he is; he is very unhappy about me.” 

“ Do you think he would let me call on him? I want to tell 
him the plans that are coming into my head. I can explain 
all the business part to him. If I can get through this year 
without debt, I am pretty sure of providing you with an in- 
come — an increasing income. This is a joy I never antici- 
pated. And then you can keep your little nephews, and be a 
real mother to them. I don’t want to trouble you with the 
business details of my plan; you would not understand them. 
But Mr. Newton will. Pray write a line asking him to see 
me, to name his own time; stay, here are paper and pen and 
ink; ask him to write to me. He knows — he knows my story. 
At least — ” She stopped, coloring crimson. 

“ He knows all it is needful for me to tell,” said Katherine, 
gravely. “ Yes, Rachel, it is better to explain all to him. 
lie is kind and wise, and I am strangely stupefied by this ex- 
traordinary overturn of my fortunes. I shall be glad of your 
help, but do no neglect your own future, dear Rachel.” 

“ 1 shall not; 1 shall make enough for us both. You have 
indeed given me something to live for. ” 


CHAPTER XXYI. 

COLONEL AND MRS. ORMONDE. 

The moral effect of feeling in touch with some loyal, ten- 
der, sympathizing fellow-creature is immense. It gives faith 
in one’s self — a belief in the possibilities for good hidden in 
the future; above all, relief from that most paralyzing of men- 
tal conditions, a sense of isolation. 

Katherine walked back alone in the dark. The sooner she 
accustomed herself to habits of independence the better; for 
the future she must learn to stand alone, to take care of her- 
self, unassisted by maid or flunky. It made her a little nerv- 
ous; for although in the old impecunious days she went on all 
necessary errands in the morning alone, she rarely left the 
house after sundown even with a companion. They were very 
monotonous days, those which seemed to have fled away so far 
into the soft, misty gloom of the past. Yet how full of fra- 
grance was their memory! The castle-building, the vague. 


302 


A CROOKED PATH. 


ly. 44 Just been trying to persuade Miss Liddell here to dis- 
pute this preposterous claim. 1 don*t believe this man is the 
real thing.* * 

44 I am afraid he is/* gravely; 44 1 know him, for John 
Liddell was a friend of my father in early life, and I feel 
satisfied this man is his son.** * 

44 You do. Well, I shall speak to my own lawyer and New- 
ton about it; one can*t give u]3 everything at the first demand 
to stand and deliver.** 

44 No; neither is it wise to throw good money after bad. 
We were just going to Mr. Newton*s, so 1*11 say good-morn- 
ing. Till to-morrow, Katherine. 1*11 report what Newton says. 
Good-morning, Mr. Errington,** said Mrs. Ormonde, pull- 
ing herself together, and her veil down. 44 This is a terrible 
business! 1 feel it as acutely as if it were myself; I mean my 
own case. I am sure it is so good of you to come and see 
Katherine. I hope yon will give us a few days at Castle- 
ford.** 

So murmuring and with a painful smile, she hastened down- 
stairs after her husband. 

Then Errington closed the door and returned to where 
Katherine stood, white and trembling, in the middle of the 
room. 44 1 am afraid your kinsfolk have been but Job*s com- 
forters,** he said, looking earnestly into her eyes, his own so 
grave and compassionate that her heart grew calmer under 
their gaze. 44 You are greatly disturbed.** 

44 They have been very cruel,** she murmured. 44 Yet, not 
knowing ail you do, they could not know how cruel. They 
are so angry because what I tried to do for the boys proved a 
failure. They little dream how guilty I feel for having created 
this confusion. If 1 am obliged to give up Cis and Charlie to 
— to Colonel Ormonde, their lot will be a miserable one!** 
She spoke brokenly, and her eyes brimmed over, the drops 
hanging on her long lashes. 

44 Sit down, Miss Liddell. I am deeply grieved to see you 
so depressed. 1 have ventured to call because I have a pin*s 
point of hope for you, which I trust will excuse me for pre- 
senting myself, as 1 know you would rather not see me. ** 

44 To-day 1 am glad to see you. I should always be glad to 
see you, but-— but for my own conscience. Do not misunder- 
stand me.** With a sudden impulse she stretched out her fair, 
soft hand to him. He took and held it, wondering to find 
that although so cold when first he touched it, it grew quickly 
warm in liis grasp. 


A CROOKED PATH. 


303 


44 Thank you/’ lie said, gently, and still held her hand; 
44 you give me infinite pleasure. Now " — releasing her — 44 for 
my excuse. Among my poor father's papers were a few let- 
ters of very old date from John Liddell, in which was occa- 
sional mention of his boy. It struck me these might be a 
modus operandi, and enable me to approach a difficult subject. 
I contrived to meet your cousin at Mr. Newton's, and he per- 
mitted me to call. I gave him the letters, and we became — 
not friends — but friendly at last." Here his face brightened. 
44 We began to talk of you, and I saw that he was bitter and 
vindictive against you to an extraordinary degree. He grew 
communicative, and I was able to represent to him the cruelty 
and unreasonableness of his conduct. At last — only to-day — 
he suddenly exclaimed, 4 How much of my money has that 
nice young lady made away with?' I could not, of course, 
give him any particulars, but having learned from himself that 
he had amassed a good deal of money himself, and that with 
the addition of your fortune (1 can not help calling it yours) 
he would really be a man of wealth, I ventured to suggest that 
lie should not demand the refunding of what you had used 
while in possession of the property, and showed him what a 
bad impression it would create in the minds of those among 
whom he evidently wishes to make a place for himself. He 
thought for a few moments, and then said he would consider 
the matter and consult his legal advisers before coming to a 
decision, adding that he did not understand how it was that 
they as well as myself were on your side. Then I left him, 
and I feel a strong impression that he will lay aside his worst 
intentions. I only trust he will spare whatever balance may 
stand to your credit with your' banker. " 

44 You have indeed done me a great service, " cried Kath- 
erine. 44 If George Liddell does as you suggest I shall not be 
afraid to face the future. I shall surely be able to find some 
employment myself; then 1 need not importune Colonel Or- 
monde for my nephews." 

44 He will surely not leave them without means," cried 
Errington. 

44 1 am not sure. They have no legal claim upon him, and 
he is very angry with me for causing such confusion, though — " 

44 Though," interrupted Errington, 44 your only error was 
overgenerosity. " 

44 My only error, Mr. Errington!" casting down her eyes 
and interlacing her fingers nervously. 44 If he only knew!" 

44 But he does not; he never shall!" exclaimed Errington, 
with animation, drawing unconsciously nearer. 44 That is a 


300 


A CROOKED PATH. 


“What can be done?” exclaimed Mrs. Ormonde, bursting 
into tears. 

“For God’s sake, don’t let us have tears and nonsense,” 
said Colonel Ormonde, roughly. “ Tell me, Katherine, is it 
possible Newton means to give in to this impostor? Why does 
lie not demand proper proof, and throw the whole business 
into chancery?” 

“ I am sure Mr. Newton could not doubt George Liddell’s 
story. He could not go back from his own involuntary recog- 
nition, nor could I pretend to doubt what I believe is true.” 

“ Pooh! that is high-flown bosh. You need not say what 
you do or do not believe. All you have to do is to throw the 
onus of proof on this fellow. ” 

“It is all too dreadful,” said Mrs. Ormonde, in tearful 
tones. “ To think that you will allow yourself to be robbed, 
and permit the dear boys to be reduced to beggary, for a mere 
crotchet — it is too bad. -I never will believe this horrid man 
is the person he represents himself to be, never!” 

“ I wish you would go and speak to Mr. Newton. He 
would explain the folly of resisting.” 

“ And how do you know that he is not bribed?” returned 
Mrs. Ormonde, with a little sob. “ Every one knows what 
dreadful wretches lawyers are. And though I dare say you 
meant well, Katherine, but having induced us to believe you 
would provide for the boys, it is a little hard — indeed, very 
hard — on Colonel Ormonde to have them thrown back on his 
hands, and it is really your duty to do something to relieve 
us.” 

“ Back on my hands!” echoed the colonel. “ IT1 not take 
them back. Why should I? I have been completely swindled 
in the whole business. I am the last man to support another 
fellow's brats. Why didn’t that old lawyer of yours ascertain 
whether your uncle’s son was dead or alive before he let you 
pounce upon the property and play Lady Bountiful with what 
did not belong to you?” And Colonel Ormonde paced the 
room in a fury, all chivalrous tradition melting away in the 
fierce heat of disappointed greed. 

“You have no right to find fault with me,” cried Kath- 
erine, stung to self-assertion. “ I did well and generously by 
your children and yourself, Ada (I must say so, as you seem 
to forget it). There is more cause to sympathize with me in 
the reverse that has befallen me than to throw the blame of 
what was inevitable on one who is a greater sufferer than your- 
selves. Ho you not know that the worst pang my bitterest 
enemy — had I one — could inflict is to feel 1 must give up the 


„ 


, . ■ ■■ . ; ' ■ * ' ■ - 

* 

A CROOKED PATH. 301 

boys? Matters are still unsettled, but if my cousin can be in- 
duced to deal mercifully with me, and not absorb my little all 
to liquidate what is legally due to him, 1 will gladly keep Cis 
and Charlie, and give them what I have, rather than throw 
them on Colonel Ormonde's charity. I am deeply sorry for 
your disappointment, but I haye done nothing to irritate 
Colonel Ormonde into forgetting what is due to a lady and his 
wife's benefactress." Katherine was thoroughly roused, and 
stood, head erect, with glowing eyes, and soft, red lips curl- 
ing with disdain. 

“ I always said she was violent; didn't I, 'Duke?" sobbed 
Mrs. Ormonde. “ Katherine, you do amaze me." 

“ There is no denying she is a plucky one," he returned, 
with a gruff laugh. “ I too deny that you should consider it 
a misfortune for the boys to come under my care. I owe a 
duty to my own son, and am not going to play the generous 
step-father to his hurt. If you can't come to advantageous 
terms with this — this impostor, as I verily believe he is, I'll 
send the boys to the Bluecoat School or some such institution. 
They have turned out very good men before this. " 

“1 am sure we could expect no more from Colonel Or- 
monde, and when you think that I shall be entirely dependent 
on him for" — sob — “my very gowns" — sob — “and — and 
little outings — and — " a total break-down. 

“ If I am penniless," said Katherine, controlling her in- 
clination to scream aloud with agony, “ 1 must accept your 
offer — any offer that will provide for my nephews. If not, I 
will devote myself and what I have to them. I really wish 
you would go and see Mr. Newton; he will make you under- 
stand matters better than I can; and as you have come in 
such a spirit, I should be glad if you would leave me. I can 
not look on you as friends, considering how you have spoken." 

“ By George!" interrupted the colonel, much astonished. 
“ This is giving us the turn-out." 

“ What ingratitude!" cried his wife, with pious indigna- 
tion, as she rose and tied on her veil. 

Her further utterance was arrested, for the door was thrown 
open, and Frangois announced, “ Mr. Errington." 

A great stillness fell upon them as Errington walked in, 
cool, collected, well dressed, as usual. 

“ Very glad to meet you here, Mrs. Ormonde," he said, 
when he had shaken hands with Katherine. “Miss Liddell 
has need of ail her friends at such a crisis. How do, colonel; 
you look the incarnation of healthy country life." 

“ Ah — ah; I'm very well, thank you," somewhat confused- 




302 


A CROOKED PATH. 


1 y. ‘ 4 J ust been trying to persuade Miss Liddell here to dis- 
pute this preposterous claim. 1 don't believe this man is the 
real thing. ” 

“ I am afraid he is,” gravely; “ I know him, for John 
Liddell was a friend of my father in early life, and I feel 
satisfied this man is his son.” " 

“ You do. Well, I shall speak to my own lawyer and New- 
ton about it; one can't give up everything at the first demand 
to stand and deliver.” 

“ No; neither is it wise to throw good money after bad. 
We were just going to Mr. Newton's, so I'll say good-morn- 
ing. Till to-morrow, Katherine. I'll report what Newton says. 
Good-morning, Mr. Errington,” said Mrs. Ormonde, pull- 
ing herself together, and her veil down. “ This is a terrible 
business! 1 feel it as acutely as if it were myself; I mean my 
own case. I am sure it is so good of you to come and see 
Katherine. I hope you will give us a few days at Castle- 
ford.” 

So murmuring and with a painful smile, she hastened down- 
stairs after her husband. 

Then Errington closed the door and returned to where 
Katherine stood, white and trembling, in the middle of the 
room. “ I am afraid your kinsfolk have been but Job's com- 
forters,” he said, looking earnestly into her eyes, his own so 
grave and compassionate that her heart grew calmer under 
their gaze. 6 4 You are greatly disturbed.'' 

44 They have been very cruel,” she murmured. 44 Yet, not 
knowing all you do, they could not know how cruel. They 
are so angry because what I tried to do for the boys proved a 
failure. They little dream how guilty I feel for having created 
this confusion. If 1 am obliged to give up Cis and Charlie to 
— to Colonel Ormonde, their lot will be a miserable one!” 
She spoke brokenly, and her eyes brimmed over, the drops 
hanging on her long lashes. 

44 Sit down, Miss Liddell. I am deeply grieved to see you 
so depressed. 1 have ventured to call because I have a pin's 
point of hope for you, which I trust will excuse me for pre- 
senting myself, as 1 know you would rather not see me. ” 

4 4 To-day 1 am glad to see you. I should always be glad to 
see you, but — but for my own conscience. I)o not misunder- 
stand me.” With a sudden impulse she stretched out her fair, 
soft hand to him. He took and held it, wondering to find 
that although so cold when first he touched it, it grew quickly 
warm in liis grasp. 


A CROOKED PATH. 


303 


44 Thank you/’ he said, gently, and still held her hand; 
4 4 you give me infinite pleasure. Now ” — releasing her — 4 4 for 
my excuse. Among my poor father’s papers were a few fet- 
ters of very old date from John Liddell, in which was occa- 
sional mention of his boy. It struck me these might be a 
modus operandi , and enable me to approach a difficult subject. 
I contrived to meet your cousin at Mr. Newton’s, and he per- 
mitted me to call. I gave him the letters, and we became — 
not friends — but friendly at last.” Here his face brightened. 
44 We began to talk of you, and I saw that he was bitter and 
vindictive against you to an extraordinary degree. He grew 
communicative, and I was able to represent to him the cruelty 
and unreasonableness of his conduct. At last — only to-day — 
he suddenly exclaimed, 4 How much of my money has that 
nice young lady made away with?’ I could not, of course, 
give him any particulars, but having learned from himself that 
he had amassed a good deal of money himself, and that with 
the addition of your fortune (1 can not help calling it yours) 
he would really be a man of wealth, I ventured to suggest that 
lie should not demand the refunding of what you had used 
while in possession of the property, and showed him what a 
bad impression it would create in the minds of those among 
whom lie evidently wishes to make a place for himself. He 
thought for a few moments, and then said he would consider 
the matter and consult his legal advisers before coming to a 
decision, adding that he did not understand how it was that 
they as well as myself were on your side. Then I left him, 
and I feel a strong impression that he will lay aside his worst 
intentions. I only trust he will spare whatever balance may 
stand to your credit with your' banker. ” 

44 You have indeed done me a great service, ” cried Kath- 
erine. 44 If George Liddell does as you suggest I shall not be 
afraid to face the future. I shall surely be able to find some 
employment myself; then 1 need not importune Colonel Or- 
monde for my nephews.” 

44 He will surely not leave them without means,” cried 
Erring ton. 

44 1 am not sure. They have no legal claim upon him, and 
he is very angry with me for causing such confusion, though — ” 

44 Though,” interrupted Errington, 44 your only error was 
overgenerosity. ” 

44 My only error, Mr. Errington!” casting down her eyes 
and interlacing her fingers nervously. 44 If he only knew!” 

44 But he does not; he never shall!” exclaimed Errington, 
with animation, drawing unconsciously nearer. 44 That is a 


304 


A CROOKED PATH. 


secret between you and me. None shall ever know our secret. 
4 11 I ask is that you will forgive me for my unfortunate 
precipitancy in destroying the means of saving you, which 
you had placed in my hands — that you will forgive me, and let 
me be your friend. It is so painful to see you shrink from me 
as you do.” 

“ Can you wonder, guilty as I feel myself to be? But if you 
so far overlook my evil deeds as to think me worth your friend- 
ship, I am glad and grateful to accept it. As to forgiveness, 
what have I to forgive? your haste to save me from the possi- 
bility of discovery?” 

“ Then,” said Errington, who had gazed for a moment in 
silence on his companion, whose face was slightly turned from 
him, every line of her pliant figure, from the graceful, droop- 
ing head to the point of her shoe peeping from under her soft, 
gray dress, expressed a sort of pathetic humility, “ will you 
give me some idea of your plans, if you have any?” 

“ They are very vague. I have a small income apart from 
my uncle’s property. 1 earnestly hope it will be enough to 
educate the boys. Then I must try to find employment — 
something that will enable me to provide for myself. Miss 
Payne is already looking out for me. That is all I can think 
of.” 






“ It is a tremendous undertaking for a young girl like you,” 
said Errington, looking down in deep thought. “ But I think 
I understand that the cruelest trial of all would be to part 
with the boys. Still it is not wise to allow Mrs. Ormonde to 
thrust her sons on you, though I never can believe that Or- 
monde could act so dastardly a part as to refuse to do his part 
in maintaining them. There again the fear of what society 
would say will do more than a sense of justice or honor. I 
don’t believe Ormcnde will dare refuse to contribute liis quota 
to the support of his wife’s sons.” 

“ Perhaps not. I wish I could do without it. But though 
Ada was harsh and unreasonable to-day, I am sorry for her. 
It must be dreadful to be tied to a man who looks on you as a 
burden.” 


“ She will manage him. Their natures are admirably 
suited. Neither is too exalted. And Mrs. Ormonde has estab- 
lished herself very firmly as mistress of Castleford and the 
colonel. ” 

“ 1 hope so.” There was a short silence. Then Errington 
said, in a low tone, looking kindly into her face, “ I trust you 
do not feel too despondent as regards the future. ” 


A CROOKED PATH. 


305 


44 Far from it,” returned' Katherihe, with a brief bright 
smile. 66 If only I can bring up my clear boys without too 
great privations, and lit them to work their way in life! From 
my short experience I should say that riches can buy little true 
happiness. Extreme poverty is terrible and degrading. Nor 
can money alone confer any true joys.” 

44 So I have found,” said Errington, thoughtfully; 44 and I 
can see that to you too the finery and distractions which wealth 
gathers together are mere dust heaps.” 

There was a pause, broken by the appearance of Miss Payne, 
who had only just discovered that Colonel and Mrs. Ormonde 
had left, and was not aware that Katherine had another visitor. 
After a little further and somewhat desultory conversation 
Errington took leave; nor was Katherine sorry, for the 
presence of Miss Payne seemed to have set them as far 
apart as ever, and how near they had drawn for a few mo- 
ments ! 

44 So that is Mr. Errington!” said Miss Payne, when the 
door had closed upon him. 44 He has never been here be- 
fore?” The tone was interrogative. 

44 Mr. Errington has some acquaintance with George Lid- 
dell,” returned Katherine, 44 and has very kindly done his best 
to dissuade him from claiming the money I have expended.” 

44 How very good of him! I am sure I trust he will suc- 
ceed!” exclaimed Miss Payne. 44 Now tell me how did Colonel 
Ormonde and your sister-in-law behave?” 

Whereupon Katherine recounted all that had been said. 
Many and cynical were Miss Payne^s remarks on the occasion, 
but Katherine scarcely heard her. That Errington should 
take so deep an interest in her, should pei’sist in wishing to be 
her friend, was infinitely sweet and consoling. He was trans- 
parently true, and she did not doubt for a moment that he 
was sincere in all he said. Still she could not forget the sense 
of humiliation his presence always inflicted. It was always de- 
lightful to speak to him, and to hear him speak. What would 
she not give to be able to stand upright before him and dare 
to assert herself? How silent and dull and commonplace she 
must appear! not a bit natural or — She would think no more 
of him. Why was his face ever before her eyes? She would 
not be haunted in that way. 

Here Bertie Payne^s entrance created a diversion, which was 
most welcome. He was looking white and ill, as though 
suffering from some mental strain, Katherine observed, and 
then remembered that he had been very silent and grave of 


306 


A CROOKED PATH. 


late; but he replied cheerfully to her inquiries, and exerted 
himself to do the agreeable during dinner, for which he 
stayed. 

Katherine almost hoped for a summons from Mr. Newton 
next day, also for some communication from Mrs. Ormonde, 
but none reached her. Still she possessed her soul in patience, 
fortified by the recollection of her interview with her new 
friend. 

It was wet, and Katherine did not venture out, having a 
slight cold. She tried to read, to write, to play, but she could 
not give her attention to anything. It was an anxious crisis 
of her fate, and the sense of her isolation pressed upon her 
more heavily than ever. She really had no family ties. Friends 
were kind, but she had no claim on them or they on her. 
Colonel and Mrs. Ormonde had ceased to exist for her. How 
would her future life be colored? From consecutive thought 
she passed to vague reverie, from which she was glad to be 
roused by the return of Miss Payne, who never stayed in for 
any weather. 

<c Where do you think I have been?” asked Miss Payne, un- 
tying her bonnet strings as she sat down. 

“ How can I guess? Your wanderings are various.” 

“ I went to see Mrs. Needham, and I am very glad 1 did. 
1 found her just bursting with curiosity. All sorts of reports 
have got about respecting your cousin and your loss of fortune, 
and she was enchanted to get the whole truth from me. Be- 
sides, she has just been applied to by the friends of a girl only 
sixteen to find a proper chaperon. She is full of enthusiasm 
about us both, and begged me, and you too, to dine with her 
the day after to-morrow to meet a Miss Bradley, the relative 
or friend of the sixteen-year-old. We are to look at each 
other, and are supposed to be in. total ignorance of each others 
identity. Mrs. Needham delights in small plots and trans- 
parent mysteries. ” 

“ And why am I to go?” asked Katherine, carelessly. 

“ To make a fourth, and talk to the hostess while 1 dis- 
course with Miss Bradley.” 

“ Very well; I will come.” 

66 Any further news to-day?” 

“ Not a word; not a line. ” 


A CROOKED PATH. 


307 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

A DINNER AT MRS. NEEDHAJVl/S. 

Mrs. Needham was a very important personage in her own 
estimation, and very popular with a large circle of acquaint- 
ance. Most of them thought she was a widow, and only a few 
old friends were aware that away in a distant colony Needham 
masculine was hiding his diminished head from creditors of 
various kinds and penalties of many descriptions, not in peni- 
tence, but with as much of enjoyment as could be extracted 
from the simple materials of antipodean life. Having taken 
with him all the .cash he could lay hands upon, his deserted 
wife was left to do battle alone on a small income which was 
her own, and fortunately secured to her on her marriage. 

She was much too energetic to sit still when she might work 
and earn money. The editor of a provincial paper, a friend 
of early days, gave her space in his columns for a weekly let- 
ter, and an introduction to a London confrere . On this slen- 
der foundation she built her humble fortunes. There were, 
in truth, few happier women in London. Brimful of interest 
in all the undertakings (and their name was legion) in which 
she was concerned, kind and unselfish, though quite free from 
sentiment, her life was full of movement and color. She had 
an enormous capacity for absorbing the marvelous, quite, unin- 
fluenced by the natural shrewdness with which she acted in all 
ordinary matters. In a bright surface way she was clever and 
full of ideas — ideas which others took up and fructified — from 
which Mrs. Needham herself derived no benefit beyond the 
pleasure of imparting them. She was constantly taken in by 
barefaced impostors, yet at times, and in an accidental way, 
hit on wonderfully accurate estimates of persons whom the gen- 
eral public credited with widely different qualities. 

She had a nice little old-fashioned house in Kensington, with 
a pretty garden, just large enough to allow of visitors being 
well wet in rainy weather between the garden gate and the hall 
door. This diminutive mansion was crammed with curios, 
specimens of china, of carved wood, of Japanese lacquer — these 
much rarer than at present. It was a pleasant abode withal; 
a kindly, generous, happy-go-lucky spirit pervaded it. Eew 
coming to seek help there were sent empty away, and the 
owners earnest consideration was ready for all who sought her 
advice. It was real joy to her to entertain her friends in an 


308 


A CROOKED PATH. 


easy, unceremonious way, and her friends were equally pleased 
to accept her hospitality. 

On the present occasion Mrs. Needham was deeply interested 
in her expected guests. Katherine Liddell had pleased her 
from the first, practical and unsentimental as she was. She 
was disposed to weave a little romance round the bright sym- 
pathetic girl, who listened so graciously to her schemes and 
projects, whose brightness had under it a strain of tender sad- 
ness, which gave an indescribable subtle charm to her manner. 
Miss Payne she had known more or less for a considerable 
time, and regarded as a worthy, useful woman; while her third 
guest was the only child of the wealthy publisher George Brad- 
ley, the owner of that new and flourishing publication 44 The 
Piccadilly Keview,” wherein those brilliant articles on 44 Our 
Colonial System,” “Modern European Politics,” etc., sup- 
posed to be from the pen of Miles Errington, appeared. 

“A partie carree of ladies does not seem to promise much,” 
said Mrs. Needham, when she had greeted Miss Payne and 
44 her young friend,” into which position Katherine had sunk; 
44 but unless 1 could have three or four men it is better to have 
none; besides, we want to talk of business, and men under such 
circumstances always exclude us, so I donT see why we should 
admit them. Miss Bradley — Miss Payne, Miss Liddell, of 
whom you have heard me speak. ” 

Miss Bradley rose from the sofa, where she was half reclin- 
ing beside a bright wood fire, a tall, stately figure in a long 
pale-blue plush dress, cut low in front, and tied loosely with a 
knot of blue satin ribbon, nestling among the rich yellow- 
white lace which fell from the edge of the bodice. She was 
extremely fair, even colorless, with abundant but somewhat 
sandy hair. Her features were regular and marked, a well- 
shaped head was gracefully set on a firm white column-like 
throat, and her eyes were clear and cold when in repose, but 
darkened and lighted up when speaking in whatever roused 
and interested her. Indeed, she looked strong and stern when 
silent. 

44 I am very pleased to meet you,” she said, in a full, pleas- 
ant voice. 44 I have often heard of you from Mrs. Needham, 
and I think you know a friend of mine — Mr. Errington.” 

44 Yes; I know him,” returned Katherine, feeling her face 
aflame. 

44 I have heard of you too,” continued Miss Bradley, address- 
ing Miss Payne, 4 4 from several mutual friends, though we have 
never happened to meet before. I think you had just left 


A CROOKED PATH. 


309 


Rome with Miss Jennings when I arrived there some four years 
ago.” 

64 1 had; and remember you were expected there.” 

64 Miss Jennings married a relation of mine, and I see her 
very often, at least often for London. She really lo'oks 
younger, if possible, than formerly,” etc., etc., and their talk 
flowed in the Jennings channel for a few minutes. 

Meantime Mrs. Needham, passing her arm through Kath- 
erine's, led her away to a very diminutive back room, draped 
and carpeted with Oriental stuffs, then beginning to be the 
fashion, and crammed with all imaginable ornaments and 
specimens, from bits of rare 44 Capo di monti ” to funny six- 
penny toys. 4 6 1 have just found such a treasure,” she ex- 
claimed; 44 a real saucer of old Chelsea, and only a small bit 
out of this side. Isn't Angela Bradley handsome? She is a 
very remarkable girl, or perhaps I ought to say woman. She 
speaks four or five languages, and plays divinely; then she is; 
a capital critic. It was she who advised her father to publish 
that very singular book, 4 The Gorgon's Head;* every publisher 
in London had refused it. He took it, and has cleared — oh, 
I'd be afraid to say how much money by it.” 

4 4 1 hope the writer got a fair share,” said Katherine, smil- 
ing. 

64 Hum! ah, that's another matter; but I dare say Bradley 
will treat him quite as fairly as any one else. She will have a 
big fortune one of these days. Her father perfectly adores 
her.” 

44 1 wish 1 could write,” said Katherine, with a sigh. 44 It 
must be a charming way to earn money.” 

44 Why don't you try? You seem to m® to have plenty of 
brains; and I suppose you will have to do something. I was 
so sorry—” Mrs. Needham was beginning, when dinner was 
announced, and her sympathetic utterances were cut short. 

The repast was admirable, erring perhaps on the side of 
plenteousness, and well served by two smart young women in 
black, with pink ribbons in their caps. Nor was there any 
lack of bright talk a good deal beyond the average. Miss 
Bradley was an admirable listener, and often by well-put ques- 
tions or suggestions kept the ball rolling. Dinner was soon 
over, and coffee was served in the drawing-room. 

44 Now, Miss Payne, I should like to consult with you,” said 
Miss Bradley, putting her cup on the mantel-piece, and resum- 
ing her seat on the sofa, where she invited Miss Payne by a 
gesture to sit beside her, 44 about the daughter of an old friend 
of mine, who does not want her to join him in India, as she is 


310 


A CROOKED PATH. 


rather delicate, and he can not retire for a couple of years. It 
is time she left school, and the question is, where shall she 
go?” 

While Miss Bradley thus attacked the subject uppermost in 
her mind, Mrs. Needham settled herself in an arm-chair as far 
as she could from the speakers, and asked Katherine to sit 
down beside her. 

64 Let them discuss their business without us,” she said, 

44 and I want to talk to you. Here, these are some rather in- 
teresting photographs. They are all actors or singers on this 
side; you’ll observe the shape of the heads, the contour gener- 
ally; these are politicians, and have quite a different aspect. 
Remarkable, isn’t it? But I was just saying when we went 
down to dinner that I was awfully sorry to hear of all your 
troubles — of course we must not regret that the man is alive; 
though if he is a cross-grained creature, as he seems to be, life 
won’t he much good to him — and I shall be greatly interested 
if you care to tell me what your plans are.” 

44 1 really have none. There are several things I could do 
pretty well. I could teach music and languages, but it is so 
difficult to find pupils. Then 1 am still in great uncertainty 
as to what my cousin may do.” 

44 He is a greedy savage,” said Mrs. Needham, emphatic- 
ally; 44 but he will not dare to demand the arrears. He would 
raise a howl of execration by such conduct. Now, as you have 
nothing settled, and if Angela Bradley and Miss Payne make 
it up, you will have to leave where you are. Suppose you come 
to me?” 

44 To you? My dear Mrs. Needham, it would be delight- 
ful.” 

44 Would it? It is not a very magnificent appointment, I 
assure you. You see, 1 have so much to do that I really must \ 
have help. I had a girl for three or four months. I gave her 
twenty-five pounds a year, and thought she would be a great 
comfort, but she made a mess of my room and my papers, and 
could not write a decent letter; besides, she was discontented, 
so she left me, and I have been in a horrid muddle for the last 
fortnight. Now if you like to come to me, while you are look- 
ing out for something better, I am sure I shall be charmed, 
and will do all I can to push you. It’s a miserable sort of 
engagement, but there it is; only I’ll want you to come as soon 
as you can, for there are heaps to do. ” 

44 Indeed 1 am delighted to be your help, or secretary, or 
whatever you choose to call me, and as for looking for some- 
thing better, if I can only save enough to provide for the boys. 


A CROOKED PATH. 


311 


1 would rather work with you for twenty-five pounds a year 
than any one else for— ” 

44 For five hundred?” put in Mrs. Needham, with an in- 
dulgent smile, as she paused. 

44 No, no. Five hundred a year is not to be lightly reject- 
ed,” returned Katherine, laughing. 44 But as I greatly doubt 
that I could ever be worth five hundred a year to any one, 1 
gladly accept twenty-five.” 

4fc Remember, I do not expect you to stay an hour after you 
find something better. Now do tell me how matters stand 
with you.” 

Katherine therefore unbosomed herself, and among other 
things told how well and faithfully Rachel Trant had behaved 
toward her, of the fatherly kindness shown her by her old law- 
yer, and wound up by declaring that the world could not be 
so bad a place as it is reckoned, seeing that in her reverse of 
fortune she had found so much consideration. 44 Of course,” 
she concluded, 4 4 there are heaps of people who, once I drop 
from the ranks of those who can enjoy and spend, will forget 
my existence; but I have no right to expect more. They only 
want playfellows, not friends, and ask no more than they 
give.” 

44 Quite true, my young philosopher. Tell me, can you 
come on Saturday — come to stay?” 

44 1 fear not. Besides, I have a superstition about entering 
on a new abode on Saturday. Don't laugh! But I will come 
to-morrow, if you like, and write and copy for you. I will 
come each day till Monday next, and so help you to clear up. ” 

44 That is a good child! I wish I could make it worth your 
while to stay; but we don't know what silver lining is behind 
the dark clouds of the present.” 

Katherine shook her head. Mrs. Needham's suggestion 
showed her that peace and a relieved conscience was the high- 
est degree of silvery brightness she anticipated in the future. 
One thing alone could restore to her the joyousness of her early 
days, and that was far away out of her reach. 

44 Mr. Errington and Mr. Payne,” said one of the smart 
servants, throwing open the door. 

44 Ah, yes! Mr. Errington, of course,” exclaimed Mrs. 
Needham, under her breath. 44 1 might have expected him. 
And you too, Mr. Payne?” she added, aloud. 44 Very glad to 
see you both. ” 

As soon, as they had paid their respects to the hostess, Er« 
rington spoke to Katherine, while Payne remained talking 
with Mrs. Needham. 


312 


A CROOKED TATH. 


“ 1 am glad to see you looking better than when we last 
spoke together/ * said Errington, pausing beside Katherine *s 
chair. 44 Have you had any communication from Newton 
yet?” 

4 6 1 have heard nothing from him, and feel very anxious to 
know George LiddelTs decision. I had a note from Mrs. Or- 
monde, written in a much more friendly spirit than I expected, 
but still in despair. She, with the colonel, had been to de- 
mand explanations from Mr. Newton, and do not seem much 
cheered by the interview.” 

“ No doubt the appearance of your cousin was a tremendous 
blow, but they have no right to Complain.” 

“ However that may be, I will not quarrel with the boys* 
mother, in spite of her unkindness. I fear so much to create 
any barrier between us. ” 

6 ‘ Those children are very dear to you/* said Errington, 
looking down on her with a soft expression and lingering 
glance. 

46 They are. 1 don*t suppose you could understand how 
dear.** 

“ Why? Do you think me incapable of human affection?** 
asked Errington, smiling. 

“ No, certainly not; only I imagine justice is more natural 
to you than love, though you can be generous, as I know.** 

Errington did not answer. He stood still, as if some new 
train of thought had been suddenly suggested to him, and 
Katherine waited serenely for his next words, when Miss Brad- 
ley, who had not interrupted her conversation, or noticed the 
new-comers in any way, suddenly turned her face toward them, 
and said, with something like command, “ Mr. Errington!** 

Errington immediately obeyed. Katherine watched them 
speaking together for some minutes with a curious sense of 
discomfort and dissatisfaction. Miss Bradley*s face looked 
softer and brighter, and a sort of animation came into her gest- 
ures, slight and dignified though they were. They seemed to 
have much to say, and said it with a certain amount of well- 
bred familiarity. Yes, they were evidently friends; very 
naturally. How happy she was to be thus free from any pain- 
ful consciousness in his presence! She was as stainless as him- 
self, could look fearlessly in his eyes and assert herself, while 
she (Katherine) could only crouch in profoundest humility, 
and gratefully gather what crumbs of kindness and notice he 
let fail for her benefit. It was quite pitiable to be so easily 
disturbed by such insignificant circumstances. How pitiably 
weak she was! So, with an effort, she turned her attention to 


A CROOKED PATH. 


313 


Mrs. Needham and Bertie, who had slipped into an argument, 
as they often did, respecting the best and most effective 
method of dealing with the poor. In this Katherine joined 
with somewhat languid interest, quite aware that Errington 
and Miss Bradley grew more and more absorbed in their con- 
versation, till Miss Payne, feeling herself de tr-oj), left her 
place to speak with Mrs. Needham, while Katherine and Ber- 
tie gradually dropped into silence. 

“ Miss Bradley^s carriage,” was soon announced, and she 
rose tall and stately, nearly as tall as Errington. 

“ Will you excuse me for running away so soon, dear Mrs. 
Needham?” she said; “but I promised Mrs. Julian Starner 
to go to her musical party to-night. I am to play the opening 
piece of the second part, so I dare not stay longer. You are 
going?” — to Errington, who bowed assent. “ Then I can give 
you a seat in my brougham,” she continued, with calm, as- 
sured serenity. 

“ Thank you,” and Errington, turning to Katherine, said, 
quickly: “ Will you let me know when you hear from Newton? 
I am most anxious as regards LiddelPs decision.” 

“ I will, certainly. Good-night.” She put her hand into 
his, and felt in some occult manner comfort by the gentle 
pressure with which he held it for half a moment. Yes, 
beaten, defeated, punished as she was, he felt for her with a 
noble compassion. Ought not that to be enough? 

“ Good-night, Miss Liddell. 1 hope you will come and see 
me. I am always at home on Tuesday afternoons; and. Miss 
Payne, when I have seen the grandmother of the girl we have 
been speaking about, I will let you know, and you will kindly 
take into consideration the points I mentioned. Good-night.” 
And she swept away, leaning on Errington/ s arm. 

“ Now that we are by ourselves,” said Mrs. Needham, com- 
fortably, “ I must tell you what 1 have been proposing to Miss 
Liddell. I should like you to know all about it,” and she 
plunged into the subject. “I know it is but a poor offer,” 
she concluded; “ but for the present it is better than nothing, 
and she can be on the lookout for something else.” 

Bertie wisely held his tongue. Katherine declared herself 
ready and willing to accept the offer, and Miss Payne, with 
resolute candor, declared that the remuneration was miser- 
able, but that it was as well to be doing something while wait- 
ing for a better appointment. 

Poor Katherine was terribly distressed by this frankness, but 
Mrs. Needham was quite unmoved. She said she saw the 


314 


A CROOKED PATH. 


force of what Miss Payne said, but there it was, and it re- 
mained with Miss Liddell to take or leave what she suggested. 

Then Miss Payne’s prospects came under discussion, and the 
doubtful circumstances connected with Miss Bradley’s proposi- 
tion. 

44 Now it is long past ten o’clock, and we must say good- 
night,” remarked Miss Payne. 44 Keally, Mrs. Needham, you 
are a wonderful woman! You have nearly 4 placed’ us both. 
How earnestly I hope there are better and brighter days before 
my young friend, whom I shall miss very much!” 

44 That I am quite sure. Well, she can go and see you as 
often as you like. Now tell me, isn’t Angela Bradley a splen- 
did creature?” 

44 She is indeed,” murmured Katherine. 

44 Well, there is a good deal of her,” said Miss Payne, with 
a sniff. 

44 Not too much for Mr. Errington, I think,” exclaimed 
Mrs. Needham, with a knowing smile. 44 1 fancy that will be 
a match before the season is over. It will be a capital thing 
for Errington. Old Bradley is ^m-mensely rich, and I am sure 
Errington is far gone. Well, good-night, my dear Miss Payne. 
I am so glad to think I shall have Miss Liddell for a little 
while, at all events. You will come the day after to-morrow 
at ten, won’t you, and help me to regulate some of my papers? 
Good-night, my dear, good-night. ” 

Mr. Newton came into his office the afternoon of the day 
following Mrs. Needham’s little dinner. His step was alert 
and his head erect, as though he were satisfied with himself 
and the world. A boy who sat in a box near the door, to make 
a note of the flies walking into the spider’s parlor, darted out, 
saying, 44 PJease, sir. Miss Liddell is waiting for you. ” 

44 Is she? Very well.” And the old lawyer went quickly 
along the passages leading to the other rooms, and opening the 
door of his own, found Katherine sitting by the table, a news- 
paper, which had evidently dropped from her hand, lying by 
her on the carpet. She started up to meet her good friend, 
who was struck by her pallor and the sad look in her eyes. 

44 Well, this is lucky!” exclaimed Newton, shaking hands 
with her cordially. 44 1 was going to write to you, as I wanted 
to see you, and here you are.” 

44 1 was just beginning to fear 1 might be troublesome, but 
I have been so anxious. ” 

44 Of course you have. And you have been very patient, on 
the whole. Well ” — laying aside his hat, and rubbing his 


A CROOKED PATH. 


315 


hands as he sat down — 44 I have just come from a consultation 
with Messrs. Compton, and I am very happy to tell you it is 
agreed that George Liddell shall withdraw his claim to the 
arrears of income, but not to the savings you have effected 
since your succession to the property, also the balauce standing 
to your name at your banker's is not to be interfered with; so 
I think things are arranging themselves more favorably, on 
the whole, than I could have hoped. " 

“They are, indeed/' cried Katherine, clasping her hands 
together in thankfulness. 6 4 What an immense relief! I have 
more than three hundred pounds in the bank, and I have found 
employment for the present at least, so I can use my little 
income for the boys. How can 1 thank you, dear Mr. Newton, 
for all the trouble you have taken for me?" And she took his 
hard, wrinkled hand, pressing it between both hers, and look- 
ing with sweet, loving eyes into his. 

‘ 4 1 am sure I was quite ready to take any trouble for you, 
my dear young lady; but in this matter Mr. Errington has 
done most of the work. He has gained a surprising degree of 
influence over your cousin, who is a very curious customer; 
but for him (Mr. Errington, 1 mean), 1 fear he would have in- 
sisted on his full rights, which would have been a bad business. 
However, that is over now. Nor will Mr. Liddell fare badly. 
Your savings have added close on three thousand pounds to the 
property which falls to him. I am surprised that he did not 
try at once to make friends with you, for his little girl's sake. 
I hear he is in treaty for a grand mansion in one of the new 
streets they are building over at South Kensington. He is 
tremendously fond of this little girl of his. It seems Liddell 
was awfully cut up at the death of lijs wife, about a year and a 
half ago. He fancies that if he had known of his father's 
death and his own succession he would have come home, and 
the voyage would have saved her life. This, 1 rather think, 
was at the root of this rancor against you." 

4 4 How un j ust ! how unreason able ! ' ' cried Katherine. 4 4 No w 
tell me of your interview with Mrs. Ormonde and her hus- 
band. " 

44 Well — ah— it was not a very agreeable half hour. I have 
seldom seen so barefaced an exhibition of selfishness. How- 
ever, I think I brought them to their senses, certainly Mrs. 
Ormonde, and I am determined to make that fellow Ormonde 
pay something toward the education of his wife's sons." 

44 1 would rather not have it," said Katherine. 

44 Nonsense," cried the lawyer, sharply. 44 You or they are 
entitled to it, and you shall have it. Mrs. Ormonde evidently 


316 


A CROOKED PATH. 


does not want to quarrel with you, nor is it well for the boys* 
sake to be at loggerheads with their mother.** 

44 No, certainly not; but, Mr. Newton, 1 can never be the 
same to her again. I never can forgive her or her husband*s 
ingratitude and want of feeling.** 

44 Of course not, and they know you will not; still, an open 
split is to be avoided. Now, tell me, what is the employment 
you mentioned?** 

Katherine told him, and a long confidential conversation 
ensued, wherein she explained her views and intentions, and 
listened to her old friend*s good advice. Certain communica- 
tions to Mrs. Ormonde were decided on, as Katherine agreed 
with Mr. Newton that she should have no further personal in- 
tercourse concerning business matters with her sister-in-law. 

44 By the way,** said Newton, 44 one of the events of the last 
few days was a visit from your protegee. Miss Trant. I was 
a good deal struck with her. She is a pretty, delicate -looking 
girl, yet she*s as hard as nails, and a first-rate woman of busi- 
ness. She seems determined to make your fortune, for that 
is just the human touch about her that interested me. She 
doesn*t talk about it, but her profound gratitude to you is evi- 
dently her ruling motive. 1 am so persuaded that she will de- 
velop a good business, and that you will ultimately get a high 
percentage of the money you have advanced — or, as you 
thought, almost given — that I am going to trust her with a 
little of mine, just to keep the concern free of debt till it is 
safely floated.** 

“ How very good of you!** cried Katherine. 44 And what a 
proof of your faith in my friend! How can you call her hard? 
To me she is most sympathetic. * * 

46 Ay, to you. Then you see she seems to have devoted her- 
self to you. To me she turned a very hard bit of her shell. No 
matter. 1 think she is the sort of woman to succeed. You 
have not seen her since — since her visit to me?** 

44 No. I have not been to see her because — not because I 
was busy, but idle and depressed. I will not be so any more. 
So many friends have been true and helpful to me that 1 
should be ashamed of feeling depressed. I will endeavor to 
prove myself a first-rate secretary, and be a credit to you , my 
dear, good friend.** 

44 That you will always be, I*m sure,** returned Newton, 
warmly. ‘ 4 Now you must run away, my dear young lady, for 
I have fifty things to do. Your friend Miss Trant will tell 
you all that passed between us, and what her plans are.** 

4 4 1 am going to pay her a visit this evening. I do not like 


A CROOKED FATH. 


31 ? 


to trouble her either in tli# morning or afternoon, she is so 
busy. But 1 always enjoy a talk with her. She is really very 
well informed, and rather original/’ 

“ 1 believe she will turn out well. Good-bye, my dear Miss 
Liddell. 1 assure you, you are not more relieved by the result 
of the morning’s considtation than 1 am.” 


CHAPTER XXV11I. 

KATHERINE IK OFFICE. 

The beginning of a new life is rarely agreeable, and when 
the newness consists of poverty in place of riches, of service 
instead of complete freedom, occupations not particularly con- 
genial instead of the exercise of unfettered choice, in such mat- 
ters — why, the contrast is rather trying. 

A fortnight after the interview just described, Katherine 
was thoroughly settled with Mrs. Needham. 

Although she justly considered herself most fortunate in 
finding a home so easily, with so pleasant and kindly a patron- 
ess, she would have been more or less than human had she 
not felt the change which had befallen her. Mrs. Ormonde’s 
conduct, too, had wounded her, more than it ought, perhaps, 
for she always knew her sister-in-law to be shallow and selfish, 
but not to the degree which she had lately betrayed. 

Her constant prayer was that she should be spared the tort- 
ure of having to give up her dear boys to such a mother and 
such a step-father. She thought she saw little, loving, deli- 
cate Charlie shrinking into himself, and withering under the 
contemptuous indifference and neglect of the Castleford house- 
hold; and Cis — bolder and stronger — hardening into defiance 
or deceit under the same influence. 

By the sort of agreement arrived at between Mr. Newton 
and Mrs. Ormonde, it was decided that so long as Katherine 
provided for the maintenance of her nephews, their mother 
was only entitled to have them with her during the Christmas 
holidays; and Colonel Ormonde was with some difficulty per- 
suaded to allow the munificent sum of thirty pounds a year 
toward the education of his step-sons. 

This definite settlement was a great relief to Katherine’s 
heart. How earnestly she resolved to keep herself on her in- 
finitesimal stipend, and save every other penny for her boys! 
Of the trouble before her, in removing them from Sandbourne 
to some inferior, because cheaper, school, she would not think. 
Sufficient to the day was the evil thereof. 


318 


A CROOKED PATH. 


She therefore applied herself diligently to her duties. There 
were varied, though somewhat mechanical. 

Mrs. Needham's particular den was a very comfortable, 
well-furnished room at the back of the house, crowded with 
books and newspapers, and prospectuses, magazines, and all 
possible impedimenta of journalism, on the outer edge of 
which women were beginning with faltering footsteps tentative- 
ly to tread. Mrs. Needham not only wrote “ provincial let- 
ters " (with a difference!), but contributed social and statis- 
tical papers to several of the leading periodicals; and one of 
Katherine's duties was to write out her rough notes, and make 
extracts from the books. Blue and others, the reports and 
jjapers which Mrs. Needham had marked. Then there were 
lots of letters to be answered and MSS. to be corrected. 

Besides these, Mrs. Needham asked Katherine as a favor to 
help her in her housekeeping, as it was a thing she hated; 
“ And whatever you do," were her concluding instructions, 
4 6 do not see too much of cook's doings. She is a clever woman, 
and after all that can be said about the feast of reason, the 
success of my little dinners depends on her. A don't think she 
takes things, but she is a little reckless, and I never could 
keep accounts." 

Katherine therefore found her time fully filled. This, how- 
ever, kept her from thinking too much, and her kind chief was 
pleased with all she did. Her mind was tolerably at rest about 
the boys, her friends stuck gallantly to her through the ship- 
wreck of her fortune, and yet her heart was heavy. She could 
not look forward with hope, or back without pain, She dared 
not even let herself think freely, for she well knew the cause 
of her depression, and had vowed to herself to master it, to 
hide it a\tay, and never allow her mental vision to dwell upon 
it. Work, and interest — enforced, almost feverish interest — 
in outside matters, were the only weapons with which she could 
fight the gnawing, aching pain of ceaseless regret that wore 
her heart. How insignificant is the loss of fortune, and all 
that fortune brings, compared to the opening of an impassable 
gulf between one's self and what has grown dearer than self, 
by that magic, inexplicable force of attraction which can rarely 
be resisted or explained! 

Life with Mrs. Needham was very active, and although 
Katherine was necessarily left a good deal at home, she saw 
quite enough of society in the evening to satisfy her. The all- 
accomplished Angela Bradley showed a decided inclination to 
fraternize with Mrs. Needham's attractive secretary, but for 
some occult reason Katherine did not respond. She fancied 


A CROOKED PATH. 


319 


that Miss Bradley was disposed to look down with too palpably 
condescending indulgence from the heights of her own calm 
perfections on those storms in a tea-cup amid which Mrs. 
Needham agitated, with such sincere belief in her own powers 
to raise or to allay them. Yet Miss Bradley was a really high- 
minded woman, only a little too well aware of her own 
superiority. She was always a favored guest at the Shrub- 
beries, as Mrs. Needham’s house was called, and of course an 
attraction to Errington, who was also a frequent visitor. The 
evenings, when some of the habitues dropped in on their way 
to parties, or returning from the theater (Mrs.* Needham never 
wanted to go to bed!), were bright and amusing. Moreover, 
Katherine had. complete liberty of movement. If Mrs. Need- 
ham were going out without her secretary, Katherine was quite 
free to spend the time with Miss Payne, or with Kachel Trant, 
whom she found more interesting. At the house of the former 
she generally found Bertie ready to escort her home, always 
kindly and deeply concerned about her, but more than ever 
determined to convert her from her uncertain faith and 
worldly tendencies, to Evangelicalism and contempt for the 
joys of this life. 

Already the days of her heirship seemed to have been wafted 
away far back, and the routine of the present was becoming 
familiar. There was nothing oppressive in it. Yet she could 
not look forward. Hope had long been a stranger to her. 
Never, since her mother’s death, since she had fully realized 
the bearings of her own reprehensible act, had she knowu the 
joy of a light heart. Some such ideas were flitting through 
her mind as she was diligently copying Mrs. Needham’s lucu- 
brations one afternoon, when the parlor maid opened the door 
and said, as she handed her a card, “ The lady is in the draw- 
ing-room, ma’am.” 

The lady was Mrs. Ormonde. 

“ Is Mrs. Needham at home?” 

6 6 No, ma’am.” 

It was rather a trial, this, meeting with Ada, but Katherine 
could not shirk it. She did not want to have any quarrel with 
the boys’ mother, so she ascended to the drawing-room. 

There stood the pretty, smartly dressed little woman, all airy 
elegance, but the usually smiling lips were compressed, and 
the smooth white brow was wrinkled with a frown. She was 
examining a book of photographs — most of them signed by 
the donors. 

“ Oh, Katherine! how do you do?” she said, sharply, and 
not in the least abashed by any memory of their last meeting. 


320 


A CROOKED PATH* 


44 I am up in town for a few days, and I couldn’t leave with- 
out seeing you. You see I have too much feeling to turn my 
back on an old friend, however injured I may be by circum- 
stances over which you had no control. You are not looking 
well, Katie; you are so white, and your eyes don’t seem to be 
half open. ” 

44 I am quite well, I assure you,” said Katherine, com- 
posedly, and avoiding a half-offered kiss by drawing a chair 
forward for her visitor. 

44 I wish I could say as much,” returned Mrs. Ormonde, 
with a deep sigh, throwing herself into it. 44 I am perfectly 
wretched; Ormonde is quite intolerable at times since every- 
thing has collapsed. I am sure I often wish you had never 
done anything for the boys or me, and then we should never 
have fancied ourselves rich. Of course I don’t blame you ; 
you meant well, but it is all very unfortunate.” 

44 It is indeed; but is it possible that Colonel Ormonde is so 
unmanly as to — ” 

44 Unmanly?” interrupted his wife. 44 Manly, you mean. 
Of course he revenges himself on me. Not always. He is all 
right sometimes; but if anything goes wrong, then I suffer. 
Fortunately I was prudent, and made little savings, with 
which I am — but ” — interrupting herself— 44 that is not worth 
speaking about.” 

44 1 am sorry you are unhappy, Ada,” said Katherine, with 
her ready sympathy. 

44 Oh, don’t think I allow myself to be trodden on,” cried 
Mrs. Ormonde, her eyes suddenly lighting up. 44 It was a 
hard fight at first, but I saw it was a struggle for life; and 
when we knew the worst, and Ormonde raved and roared, I 
said I should leave him and take baby (I could, you know, till 
he was seven years old), and that the servants would swear I 
was in fear of my life; and I should have done it, and carried 
my case, too! I’m not sure it would not have been better for 
me. But he gave in, and asked me to stay. I felt pretty safe 
then. Now, when he is disagreeable, I burst into tears at 
dinner, and upset my glass of claret on the table-cloth, and 
totter out of the room weak and tremulous. I can see the 
butler and Janies ready to tear him to pieces. When he is 
good-humored, so am I; and when he tries to bully, why, 
what with trembling so much that 1 break something he likes, 
and fits of hysterics, and being awfully frightened before stran- 
gers, and making tilings go wrong when he wishes to create a 
great effect on some one, I think he begins to see it is better 
not to quarrel with me. Still, it is awfully miserable, com- 


A OKOOKED PATH. 


321 


pared to what it used to be when I really thought he loved 
me. How pleasant we all were together at Oastleford before 
this horrid man turned up! Why didn't that awkward bush- 
ranger take better aim?" 

“ I dare say George Liddell is not quite of your opinion/' 
said Katherine, smiling at her sister-in-law's candor. 

“He was quite rich before/' continued Mrs. Ormonde, 
querulously. “ Why couldn't he be satisfied to stay out there 
and spend his own money? I hate selfishness and greed!" 

“ They are odious in every one,," said Katherine, gravely. 

“ Now that I feel satisfied you are well and happy," re- 
sumed Mrs. Ormonde, who had never put a single question 
respecting herself to Katherine, “ there are one or two things 
I wanted to ask you. Where are the boys?" 

“ They are still at Sandbourne; but they leave, 1 am sorry 
to say, at Easter." 

“ Oh, they do! It is an awfully expensive school. Are you 
quite sure, Katherine, they will not send in the bill to me?" 

“ Quite sure, Ada, for I have paid in advance." 

“ That was really very thoughtful, dear. Then — excuse my 
asking; I would not interfere with you for the world — but 
what are you going to do with them in the Easter holidays? I 
dare not have them at Oastleford. I should lose all the 
ground I have gained if such a thing were even hinted to the 
colonel. " 

“ W T hy apologize for inquiring about your own children? Do 
not be alarmed, they shall not go. 1 am just now arranging 
for them to go to a school at Wandsworth, and for the Easter 
holidays Miss Payne has most kindly invited them." 

“ Eeally! How very nice! I will send her a hamper from 
Oastleford. I can manage that much. This is rather a nice 
little place," continued Mrs. Ormonde, evidently much re- 
lieved, and looking round. “ What lots of pretty things! Is 
Mrs. Needham nice? She seemed rather a flashy woman. 
You must feel it an awful change from being an heiress, and 
so much made of, to being a sort of upper servant! Do you 
dine with Mrs. Needham?" 

“Yes, 1 really do, and go out to evening parties with her." 

“ No, really?" 

“ It is a fact. She is a kind, delightful woman to live with. 
I am most f^tunate." 

“Fortunate? You can not say that, Katie! You are the 
most unfortunate girl in the world. You know how penniless 
women are looked upon in society. I remember when Or- 
monde thought himself such a weak idiot for being attracted 


322 


A CROOKED PATH. 


to me, all because I had no money. It makes such a differ- 
ence! Why, there is Lord De Burgh; I met him yesterday, 
and asked him to have a cup of tea with me, and he never 
once mentioned your name.” 

“ Why should he? I never knew Lord De Burgh,” said 
Katherine. 

“ Yes, you did, dear! Why, you can not know what is 
going on if you have not heard that old De Burgh died nearly 
a fortnight ago in Paris, and our friend has come in for 
everything. He had just returned from the funeral, so he said, 
and is looking darker and glummer than ever. Well, you 
know how he used to run after you. I assure you he never 
made a single inquiry about you. Heartless, wasn't it? I said 
something about that horrid man coming back, and — would 
you believe it? — he laughed in that odious, cynical way he has, 
and called me a little tigress. The only sympathetic word he 
spoke was to call it an infernal business. He doesn't care 
what he says, you know. Then he asked if Ormonde was tear- 
ing his hair about it. What a pity you did not encourage him, 
Katie, and marry him! Once you were his wife he could 
not have thrown you off. Now I don't suppose you'll ever see 
him again. I rather think Mrs. Needham does not know 
many of his set.'' 

4 4 She knows an extraordinary number of people — all sorts 
and conditions of men; Mr. Errington often dines here.” 

“Does he? But then he is a sort of literary hack now. 
Just think what a change both for you and him!'' 

“ It is very extraordinary; but he keeps his position better 
than I do. ” 

“ Of course. Men are always better off. Now, dear, I 
must go. 1 am quite glad to have seen you, and sorry to 
think that my husband is absurdly prej udiced ' against you 
from the way you spoke to him last time. It was by no means 
prudent. ” 

“ Well, Ada, should Colonel Ormonde so far overcome his 
objection to me as to seek me again, 1 think it very likely I 
may say more imprudent things than 1 did last time. Pray, 
what do I owe him that I should measure my words?” 

“ Eeally, Katherine, when you hold your head up in that 
way I feel half afraid of you. There is no use trying to hold 
your own with the world when your pocket is empty. You 
see nobody troubles about you now, whereas — ” 

“Miss Bradley!” announced the servant; and Angela en- 
tered, in an exquisite walking-dress of dark-blue velvet; bon- 


A CROOKED PATH. 


323 


net and feathers, gloves, parasol, all to match. Mrs. Ormonde 
gazed in delighted admiration at this splendid apparition. 

44 My dear Miss Liddell!” she exclaimed, shaking hands 
cordially. 44 I have rushed over to tell you that we have se- 
cured a box for Patti's benefit on Thursday, and I want you 
to join us. I know Mrs. Needham has a stall, but she will sup 
with us after. Mr. Errington and one or two musical critics 
are coming to dine with me at half past six, and we can go 
together.” 

44 You are very good,” said Katherine, coloring. She did 
not particularly care to go with Miss Bradley, and she was 
amused at Mrs. Ormonde's expression of astonishment. 44 Of 
course I shall be most happy.” 

44 Now I must not stay; 1 have heaps to do. Will you be so 
kind as to give me the address of the modiste you mentioned 
the other day who made that pretty gray dress of yours? Ma- 
dame Maradan is so full she can not do a couple of morning- 
dresses for me, so I want to try your woman.” 

44 1 shall be so glad if you will,” cried Katherine. 44 1 will 
bring you one of her cards. Let me introduce my sister-in- 
law to you. Mrs. Ormonde, Miss Bradley.” She left the 
room, and Miss Bradley drew a chair beside her. 44 1 think I 
had the pleasure of seeing you at Lady Carton’s garden-party 
last July?” she said, courteously. 

44 Oh, dear me, yes! I thought I knew your face. Lady 
Carton introduced you to me. Lady Carton is a cousin of 
Colonel Ormonde's.” 

44 Oh, indeed! Miss Liddell was not there?” 

44 No; she chose to bury herself by the sea-side for the whole 
season.” 

Here Katherine returned with the card. 

44 1 am so glad you are going to give my friend Eachel Trant 
a trial. 1 am sure you will like her. She has excellent taste.” 

44 Now I must not wait any longer. So good-bye. Shall 
you be at Madame Caravicelli's this evening?” 

44 1 am not sure. I don't feel much disposed to go.” 

44 Good-bye for the present, then. Good-morning,” to Mrs. 
Ormonde, and Miss Bradley swept out of the room. 

44 Well, Katherine!” cried Mrs. Ormonde, when her sister- 
in-law returned, 44 you seem to have fallen on your feet here. 
Pray who is that fine elegant girl who seems so fond of you?” 

44 She is the daughter of a wealthy publisher, and has been 
very kind to me.” 

44 Ah, yes! I remember now. Lady Carton said she would 
have a large fortune; and so she is your intimate friend?” 


324 


A CROOKED PATH. 


“ Well, a very kind friend. ” 

“ Now I must bid you good-bye. I am sure I am very glad 
you are so comfortable. I am going back to Oastleford to- 
morrow, or 1 should- call again. You are going to be Lucky 
Katherine, after all; 1 am sure you are;” and with many 
sweet words she departed. 

“ Lucky,” repeated Katherine, as she returned to her task, 
“ mine has been strange luck.” 

Despite Mrs. Ormonde’s assurances that De Burgh had quite 
forgotten her, the news that he was once more in town dis- 
turbed Katherine. Unless some new fancy had driven her out 
of his head, she felt .sure that his first step in the new and in- 
dependent existence on which he had entered would be to seek 
her out and renew the offer he had twice made before. Money 
or no money, position, circumstances, all were but a feather- 
weight compared to the imperative necessity of having his 
own way. 

It would be very painful to be obliged to refuse him again, 
for in spite of her brave disapprobation of him in many ways, 
she liked him, and had a certain degree of confidence in him. 
There were the possibilities of a good character even in his 
faults, and it grieved her to be obliged to pain him. 

“ After all, 1 may be troubling myself about a vain image; 
it is more than a month since I saw him. He is now a wealthy 
peer, and it is impossible to say how circumstances may have 
changed him. ” 

When Mrs. Needham had dressed for the dinner which was 
to precede Mme. Caravicelli’s reception, Katherine put on her 
bonnet and cloak and set off to spend a couple of hours with 
Rachel Trant, not only to avoid a lonely evening, but to change 
the current of her thoughts — loneliness and thought being 
her greatest enemies at present. 

She had grown quite accustomed to make her way by omni - 
bus, and as the days grew longer and the weather finer, she 
hoped to be able to walk across Oampden Hill, not only short- 
ening the distance but saving the fare. A visit to Rachel 
amused Katherine and drew her out of herself more than any- 
thing; the details of the business and management of property 
which she felt was her own had a large amount of interest — 
real, living interest. The state of the books, the increase of 
custom, the addition to the small capital which Rachel was 
gradually accumulating — all these were subjects not easily ex- 
hausted. Both partners agreed that their great object, now 
that the undertaking was beginning to maintain itself, was to 


A CROOKED PATH. 325 

lay by all they could, for of course bad debts and bad times 
would come. 

“ It is a great satisfaction to think that though people may 
do without books or pictures or music, they must wear clothes; 
and if you fit well, and are punctual, you are certain to have 
customers. Of course if you give credit you must charge high; 
people are beginning to see that now. You can not get ready 
money in the dress-making trade except for those costumes you 
give for a certain fixed price; but I stand out for quarterly ac- 
counts.” 

“ And do you find no difficulty in getting them paid?” 

“ Not much; you see, I deduct five per cent, for punctual 
payment. Every one tries to save that five per cent. But 
talking of these things has put a curious incident out of my 
head, which 1 was longing to tell you. You remember among 
my first customers were Mrs. Fairchild and her daughters. 
They keep a very high class ladies* school in Inverness Ter- 
race, and have been excellent customers. Yesterday Miss 
Fairchild called and said that she wanted an entire outfit for 
a little girl of ten or eleven, who was to be with them. They 
did not wish for anything fine or showy; at the same time, cost 
was no object. I was to furnish everything, to save time. 
This morning they brought the child to be fitted; she is very 
tall and thin, but lithe and supple with dark hair, and large, 
bright, dark-brown eyes. She will be very handsome. I could 
not quite make her out; she is not an ordinary gentlewoman, 
nor is she the very least vulgar or common. She gives me 
more the idea of a wild thing not quite tamed. When all was 
settled I was told to address the account to Mr. George Lid- 
dell, Grosvenor Hotel.*' 1 

“ Why, it must be my cousin George!** cried Katherine. 
“ How strange that in this huge town they should fix on you 
among the thousands of dress-makers! You must make my 
little cousin look very smart, Rachel. ** 

“ She is not little. She is wonderfully mature for ten years 
old, something like a panther.** 

“ I should like to see her. 1 believe she is a great idol with 
her father. 1 wish,** added Katherine, after a pause, “he 
were not so unreasonably prejudiced against me. You may 
think me weak, Rachel, but I have a sort of yearning for fam 1 
ily ties. ** 

“ Why should I think you weak? It is a natural and I sup- 
pose a healthy feeling. / don't understand it myself because 
1 never had any. Isolation is my second nature. Thb only 
human being that ever treated me with tenderness and loyal 


326 


A CROOKED PATH. 


friendship is yourself, and what you have been to me, what 1 
feel toward you, none can know, for 1 can never tell.” 

“ Dear Rachel! How glad I am to have been of use to you! 
And you amply repay me, you are looking so much belter. 
Tell me, are you not feeling content and happy?” 

Rachel smiled, a smile somewhat grim in spite of the soft 
lips it parted. “ I am resigned, and I have found an object 
to live for, and you know what an improvement that is com- 
pared to the condition you found me in. But I don't think I 
am really any more in love with life now than I was then. 
However, I am more mistress of myself.” She paused, and 
her face grew very grave as she leaned back in her chair, her 
arm and small hand, closely shut, resting on the table beside 
her. 

“ All the minute details, the thought and anxiety, my busi- 
ness, or rather our business, requires an enormous help — it is 
such a boon to be too weary at night-time to think! But no 
amount of work, of care, can quite shut out the light of other 
days. It is no doubt wrong, immoral, unworthy of a reformed 
outcast, but if my real heart's desire could be fulfilled, I would 
live over again those few months of exquisite happiness, and 
die before waking to the terrible reality of my insignificance in 
the sight of him who was more than life to me — die while I 
was still something to be missed, to be regretted. He would 
have tired of me had I been his wife, and that would have 
been as terrible as my present lot — even more, for I must have 
seen his weariness day by day, and no amount of social esteem 
would have consoled me. As it is, my real self seems to have 
died, and this creature ” — striking her breast — 66 was a cun- 
ningly contrived machine, that can work, and understand, 
but, save for one friend, can not feel. I do not even look 
back to him with any regretful tenderness. I do not love him 
— that is dead. I do not hate him — I have no right. He did 
not deceive me; 1 voluntarily overstepped the line which 
separates the reputable and the disreputable; as long as I was 
loved and cherished I never felt as if I had done wrong. I 
never felt humiliation when I was with him. When he grew 
tired of me he could not help it; he never did try to resist any 
whim or passion. But better, stronger men can not hold the 
wavering will-o'-the-wisp they call ‘ love;' and once it flickers 
out, it can not be • relighted. No, 1 have no one to blame; I 
can only resign myself to the bitterest, cruelest fate that can 
befall a woman — to be loved and eagerly sought, won, and 
adored for a brief hour, then thrown carelessly aside — a mere 
plaything, unworthy of serious thought. Ah, I have forgotten 


A CROOKED PATH. 


327 


my resolution not to talk of myself to you. It is a weakness; 
but your kind eyes melt my heart. Now 1 will close it up — 1 
will think only of the task I have set myself, to make a little 
fortune for you, a reputation for my own establishment — not 
a very grand ambition, but it does to keep the machine 
going; and 1 am growing stronger every day, with a strange 
force that surprises myself. I fear nothing and no one. I 
think my affection for you, dear, is the only thing which keeps 
me human. Now tell me, are you still comfortable with Mrs. 
Needham?” 

The tears stood in Katherine’s eyes as she listened to this 
stern wail of a bruised spirit, but with instinctive wisdom she 
refrained from uttering fruitless expressions of sympathy. 
She would not encourage Rachel to dwell on the hateful sub- 
ject; she only replied by pressing her friend’s hand in silence, 
and she began to speak of Mrs. Ormonde’s visit, and succeed- 
ed in making Kachel laugh at the little woman’s description 
of the means she adopted of reducing Colonel Ormonde to 
reason. 

44 Real generosity and unselfishness are very rare,” said Ka- 
chel. 44 The meanness and narrowness of men are amazing — 
and of women too; but somehow one expects more from the 
strength of a man.” 

44 When men are good they are very good,” said Kate, re- 
flectively. 44 But the only two 1 have seen much of are not 
pleasant specimens — my uncle, John Liddell, and Colonel Or- 
monde. Then against them I must balance Bertie Payne, who 
is good enough for two. ” 

44 He is indeed! I owe him a debt I can never repay, for 
he brought you to me. I wish you could reward him as he 
would wish.” 

. 44 1 am not sure that he has any wishes on the subject,” said 
Katherine, her color rising. 44 He thinks I am too ungodly 
to be eligible for the helpmeet of a true believer. Ah, indeed 
I am not half good enough for such a man!” 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

DE BURGH AGAIN. 

That Rachel Trant should have drifted into communication 
with George Liddell seemed a most whimsical turn of the wheel 
of fortune to Katherine, and she thought much of it. 

Would it lead to any reconciliation between herself and her 
strange, unreasonable, haif-savage kinsman? She fancied she 
could interest herself in his daughter, and toward himself she 


328 


A CROOKED PATH. 


Why 


felt no enmity; rather a mild description of curiosity, 
should they not be on friendly terms? 

But this and other subjects of thought were swallowed up in 
the anticipated pain of removing her nephews from their school 
at Sandbourne, where they had been so happy and done so well. 
Miss Payne's friendly offer to take them in for a week or two 
had relieved Katherine of a difficulty; and Mrs. Needham was 
most considerate in promising to give her ample time to pre- 
pare them for their new school. 

What a difference, poor Katherine thought, between the 
present and the past! quite as great as between the price of 
Sandbourne and Wandsworth. There was a certain rough 
and ready tone about the latter establishment which distressed 
her; yet the school-master's wife seemed a kindly, motherly 
woman, and the urchins she saw running about the play- 
ground looked ruddy and happy enough. It was the best of 
the cheaper schools she had seen, and to Dr. Paynter's care 
she resolved to commit them. As Wandsworth was within an 
easy distance, she could often go to see them. 

Another matter kept her somewhat on the qui vive. In 
spite of Mrs. Ormonde's assurances that De Burgh had forgot- 
ten her, Katherine had a strong idea that she had not seen the 
last of him. 

Though Mrs. Needham's wide circle of acquaintances in- 
cluded many men and women of rank, she knew nothing of 
the set to which De Burgh belonged. Those nf his class, ad- 
mitted within the hospitable gate of the Shrubberies, were 
usually persons of literary, artistic, or dramatic leanings and 
connections, of which he was quite innocent. 

It was a day or two after Katherine's last interview with 
Rachel Trant, and Mrs. Needham was “ at home " in a more 
formal way than usual. Katherine was assisting her chief in 
receiving, when, in the tea-room, she was accosted by Erring- 
ton. “ Have you had tea yourself?" he asked, with his grave, 
sweet smile. 

“ Oh, yes! long ago." 

“ Then, Miss Liddell, indulge me in a little talk. It is so 
long since I have had a word with you! It seems that since 
we agreed to be fast friends, founding our friendship on the 
injuries we have done each other, that we have drifted apart 
more than ever. Pray do not turn away with that distressed 
look. I am so unfortunate in being always associated with 
painful ideas in your mind." 

“ Indeed you are not. All the good of my present life I 
owe to you," and she raised her soft brown eyes, full of tender 


j 


A CROOKED PATH. 329 

gratitude, to his. It was a glance that might have warmed 
any mar/s heart, and Errington’s answer was: 

44 Come, then, and let us exchange confidences,” the crowd 
round the door at ‘that moment obliging him, as it seemed to 
her, to hold her arm very close to his side. 

At the end of the hall, which was little more than a passage, 
was a door sheltered by a large porch. The door had been 
removed, and the porch turned into a charming nook, with 
draperies, plants, colored lamps, and comfortable seats. Here 
Errington and Katherine established themselves. 

44 First,” he began, 44 tell me, how do you fare at Mrs. 
Needhan/s hands? I am glad to see that you seem quite at 
home; and if I may be allowed to say it, you bear up bravely 
under the buffets of unkindly fortune.” 

46 1 have no right to complain,” returned Katherine. 44 As 
to Mrs. Needham, were I her younger sister she could not be 
kinder. I think the great advantage of the semi-Bohemian 
set to which she belongs, is that among them there is neither 
Jew nor Greek, neither bond nor free, for all are one in our 
common human nature. Were I to go down into the kitchen 
and cook the dinner, it would not put me at any disadvantage 
with my good friend. I should have only to wash my hands 
and don my best frock, and in the drawing-room I should be 
as much the daughter of the house as ever. ” 

Errington laughed. There was a happy sound in his laugh. 

44 You describe our kind hostess well. Such women are the 
salt of the social earth. And your 4 dear boys/ How and 
where are they?” 

44 Ah! that is atrial. 1 go down to Sandbourne the day 
after to-morrow, to take them from that delightful school, and 
place them in a far different establishment.” 

44 Ha! Does Mrs. Ormonde go with you?” 

44 Mrs. Ormonde? Oh, no. You know — ” she hesitated. 
44 Well, you see. Colonel Ormonde is exceedingly indignant 
with me because I have lost my fortune, and J fancy he does 
not approve of Ada^s having anything to do with me. Be- 
sides — ” She paused, not liking to betray too much of the 
family politics. 44 They have agreed to give the boys over to 
me.” 

44 1 know. I paid Mr. Newton a long visit the other day, 
and he told me — perhaps more than you would like. ” 

44 1 do not mind how much you know,” said Katherine, 
sadly. 44 1 am glad you care enough to inquire.” 

44 1 want you to understand that I care very, very much,” 
replied Errington, in a low, earnest tone. 44 You and I have 


330 


A CROOKED PATH, 


crossed each other's paths in an extraordinary manner, and if 
you will allow me, I should like to act a brother's part to you 
if — " He broke oft* abruptly, and Katherine, looking up to 
him with a bright smile, exclaimed: 

“ 1 shall be delighted to have such a brother, and will not 
give you more trouble than I can help." 

4 ‘ Thank you." He seemed to hesitate a moment, and 
then, with a change of tone, observed: “ Tou and Miss Brad- 
ley seem to have become intimate. You must find her an 
agreeable companion. I think she might be a useful friend." 

“ She is extremely kind. I can not say how much obliged 
to her I am; but," continued Katherine, impelled by an unac- 
countable antagonism, “do you know, I can not understand 
why she likes me. There is no real sympathy between us. 
She is so wise and learned. She never would do wrong things 
from a sudden irresistible impulse, and then devour her heart 
with, not repentance exactly, but remorse which can not be 
appeased." 

“ Probably not. She is rather a remarkable woman. Strong, 
yet not hard. I fancy we are the arbiters of our own fate." 

“Oh, no! no!" cried Katherine, with emotion. “Just 
think of the snares and pitfalls which beset us, and how hard 
it is to keep the narrow road when a heart-beat too much, a 
sudden rush of sorrow or of joy, and our balance is lost: even 
steady footsteps slide from the right way. Believe me, some 
never have a fair chance. " 

Errington made a slight movement nearer to her, and after 
a brief pause said, “ I should like to hear you argue this with 
Angela Bradley." 

It sounded strange and unpleasant to hear him say “ An- 
gela." 

“ I never argue with her," said Katherine. “ Mine are but 
old-fashioned weapons, while hers are of the latest fashion and 
precision. Moreover, we stand on different levels, I am sorry 
to say. I wonder she troubles herself about me. Is it pure 
benevolence? or"* — with a quick glance into his eyes, which 
were unusually animated — “ did you ask her of her clemency 
to throw me some crumbs of comfort? If so, she has obeyed 
you gracefully and well. " 

Unreason has a potent advocate in you, Miss Liddell," 
said Errington, smiling a softer smile than usual. “ But I 
want you to understand and appreciate Miss Bradley. She is 
a fine creature in every sense of the word. As friend, I am 
sure she would be loyal with a reasonable loyalty, and 1 flatter 
myself she is a friend of mine." 


A CEOOKED PATH. 331 

“ Another sister?” asked Katherine, forcing herself to smile 
playfully. 

64 Yes, ” returned Errington, slowly, looking down as he 
spoke; 44 a different kind of sister.” 

Katherine felt her cheeks, her throat, her ears, glow, as she 
listened to what she considered a distinct avowal of his engage- 
ment to the accomplished Angela, but she only said, softly 
and steadily, 44 1 hope she will always be a dear and loyal sis- 
ter to you.” 

There was a moment’s silence. Then Errington said, 
abruptly, his eyes, as she felt, on her face, 44 Have you seen 
De Burgh since his return?” 

44 No.” 

44 No doubt you will. What a curious fellow he is! I won- 
der how he will act, now that he has rank and fortune? He 
has some good points.” 

44 Oh, yes, many,” cried Katherine, warmly. 44 1 could 
not help liking .him. He is very true.” 

44 And extremely reckless,” put in Errington, coldly, as 
Katherine paused to remember some other good point. 

44 Certainly not calculating,” she returned. 

44 Probably his new responsibilities may steady him.” 

44 They may. I almost wish I dare — ” 

4 4 My dear Katherine, I have been looking everywhere for 
you. I want you so much to play Mrs. Grandison’s accom- 
paniment. She is going to sing one of your songs, and no one 
plays it as well as you do. So sorry to interrupt your nice 
talk; but what can a wretched hostess do?” 

44 Oh, I am quite ready, Mrs. Needham,” said Katherine; 
and she rose obediently. 

44 Will you come, Mr. Errington?” asked the lady of the 
house. 

44 To hear Mrs. Grandison murder one of Miss Liddell’s 
songs, which I dare say I have heard at Castleford? No, thank 
you. 1 shall bid you good-night. 1 am going on to Lady 
Barbara Bonsfield’s, where I shall not stay long.” 

4 4 Horrid woman ! she robbed me of Angela Bradley to- 
night!” exclaimed Mrs. Needham. 

With a quick 44 Good-night,” Katherine went to fulfill her 
duties in the drawing-room, and did not see Errington again 
for several days. 

44 1 was vexed with you for not singing last night,” said 
Mrs. Needham, as she sat at luncheon with her young friend 
the next morning. 44 You may not have a great voice, but 


332 


A CROOKED PATH. 


you are much more thoroughly trained than half the amateurs 
whose squallings and screechings are applauded to the echo. ” 

“ I do not know why, but I really did not feel that 1 could 
sing, Mrs. Needham. I do not often feel miserable and choky, 
but I did last night. I am so anxious and uneasy about the 
boys and the school they are going to, that I was afraid of 
making a fool of myself. When the change is accomplished I 
shall be all right again, and not bore you with my senti- 
mentality. 99 

“You don’t do anything of the sort. You are a capital 
plucky girl. Now 1 have nothing particular for you to do 
this afternoon, and 1 can’t take you with me; so just go out 
and call on Miss Bradley or Miss Payne to divert your — 99 

“ A gentleman for Miss Liddell,” said the parlor-maid, 
placing a card beside Katherine. 

“ Lord De Burgh!” she exclaimed, in great surprise. 

“ Lord who?” asked Mrs. Needham. 

“ Lord De Burgh; he is a relation of Colonel Ormonde; 1 
used to meet him at Castleford . 99 

Mrs. Needham eyed her curiously. “ Oh, very well, dear,” 
she said, with great cheerfulness. “ Go and see him, and 
give him some tea; only it is too early. I am sorry I can not 
put in an appearance, but I have just a hundred and one 
things to do before I go to Professor Maule’s scientific 4 after- 
noon 9 at four. Give me my bag and note-book I must go 
staight away to the Incubator Company’s office; I promised 
them a notice in my Salterton letter next week. There, go, 
child; I don’t want you any more.” 

“ But 1 am in no hurry, Mrs. Needham. Lord De Burgh 
is no very particular friend of mine.” 

“ Well, well! That remains to be seen. Just smooth your 
hair, won’t you? It’s all rough where you have leaned on 
your hand over your writing. It’s no matter? Well, it doesn’t 
much. Do you think he has any votes for the British Benevo- 
lent Institution for Aged Women? 1 do so want to get my 
gardener’s mother — There, go, go, dear! You had better 
not keep him waiting.” And Katherine was gently propelled 
out of the room. 

In truth, she was rather reluctant to face De Burgh, al- 
though she felt gratified and soothed by his taking the trouble 
to find her out. 

Katherine found her visitor pacing up and down when she 
opened the drawing-room door, feeling vexed with herself for 
her changing color and the embarrassment she felt she dis- 
played. De Burgh was looking taller and squarer than ever. 




m iii .. - rtfliitojii r i 1 1 


A CROOKED PATH. 


333 


but his dark face brightened so visibly as his eyes met Kath- 
erine's, that she felt a pang as she thought how unmoved she 
was herself. 

“I thought you had escaped from sight!" he exclaimed, 
holding her hand for a moment longer than was absolutely 
necessary. “ The first time I went to look for you in the old 
place, I was simply told you had left, by a stupid old woman 
who knew nothing. Then I called again and asked for Miss 
— you know whom 1 mean; she is rather a brick, and told me 
all about-you. In the meantime I met Mrs. Ormonde. I was 
determined not to ask her anything— she is such a selfish little 
devil. Now here I am face to face with you at last." And he 
drew a chair opposite her, and was silent for a minute, gazing 
with a wistful look in her face. 

44 You have not a very high opinion of my sister-in-law," 
said Katherine, beginning as far away from themselves as she 
could. 

44 She is an average woman," he said, shortly. 44 But tell 
me, what is the matter with you? I did not think you were 
the sort of girl to break your heart over the loss of a fortune." 

44 But I have not broken my heart!" she exclaimed, some- 
what startled by his positive tone. 

44 There's a look of pain in your eyes, a despondency in your 
very figure; don't you think I know every turn of you? Well, 
1 won't say more if it annoys you. We have changed places, 
Katherine — I mean Miss Liddell. Fortune has given me a 
turn at last, and I have been tremendously busy. I had no 
idea how troublesome it is to be rich. There are compensa- 
tions, however. This doesn't seem a bad sort of place " — • 
looking round at the crowd of china and bric-a-brac ornaments 
and the comfortable chairs. 64 How did you come here, and 
what has been settled? Don't think me impertinent or in- 
trusive; you know you agreed we should be friends, and you 
must not send me adrift!" 

64 Thank you. Lord De Burgh. I am sure you could be a 
very loyal friend. My story is very short." And she gave 
him a brief sketch of how her affairs had been arranged. 

44 By George! Ormonde is a mean sneak. To think of his 
leaving those boys on your hands! and he has plenty of money. 
I happen to know that his wife has been dabbling in the stocks, 
and turned some money too. Now where did she get the cash 
to do it with but from him? So I suppose you intend to 
starve yourself in order to educate the poor little chaps?" 

64 Oh, no. On the contrary, 1 am living on the fat of the 
land, with the kindest mistress in the world." 


334 


A CROOKED PATH. 


“ Mistress! Great heavens! Why will you persist in such 
a life?” 

4 4 My dear Lord De Burgh, don’t you know that it is not 
always easy to judge or to act for another?” 

44 VVhiph means I am to mind my own business?” 

k4 You have a very unvarnished style of stating facts.” 

44 1 know 1 have.” A short pause, and he began again. 
44 Where are those boys now?” 

44 At Sandbourne. But, alas! 1 am going to take them 
away to-morrow. They are going to a school at Wands- 
worth. ” 

44 Going down to Sandbourne to-morrow? Is Miss Payne 
going with you?” 

44 Oh, no; I don’t need any one.” 

“ Nonsense! You can’t go about alone. I’ll meet you at 
the station and escort you there.” 

Katherine laughed. 44 I am afraid that would never do. 
You have increased in importance and I have diminished, till 
the distance between our respective stations has widened far 
too much to permit of familiar intercourse, or — ” 

4 4 1 never thought 1 should hear you talking such rubbish. 
What difference can there be between us, except that you are 
a good woman and 1 am not a good man? I don’t think it’s 
quite fair that on our first meeting after ages — at least quite 
two months of separation — you should talk in this satirical 
way. ” 

44 1 speak the words of truth and soberness. Lord De Burgh.” 

44 Perhaps. 1 can’t quite make you out. 1 am certain you 
have been in worse trouble than even want of money. I wish 
you’d confide in me. That’s the right word, isn’t it? Do you 
know, 1 can be very true to my friends, and silent as the 
grave. / could tell you everything.” 

k4 Thank you. I am sure you could be a faithful friend. ” 

44 Do you ever see Errington?” asked De Burgh, changing 
the subject abruptly. 

44 Oh, yes. He often comes here.” 

44 Indeed? To see you, or Mrs. — what’s her name?” 

44 To see Mrs. Needham,” returned Katherine, smiling. 

44 Hum! I suppose he has a taste for mature beauty?” 

44 1 do not know. At all events, Mrs. Needham knows 
charming girls — enough to suit all tastes, and Mr. Erring- 
ton — ” 

44 Is too superior a fellow to be influenced by such attrac- 
tions, eh?” put in De Burgh. 

44 1 am not so sure;” and she laughed merrily. “ I think 


A CROOKED PATH. 335 

there is one fair lady for whom he is inclined to forego his 
philosophic tranquillity.” 

44 Ha! I thought so. Yourself?” 

“Me? No, indeed! A young lady of high attainments 
and a large fortune.” 

44 Indeed? I am glad of it. He must be awfully hard up, 
poor devil!” 

44 Mr. Errington can never be poor,” cried Katherine, 
offended by the disparaging epithet. 44 He carries his fortune 
in his brain.” 

44 Well, I am exceedingly thankful I carry mine in my 
pocket,” returned De Burgh, laughing. 44 Evidently Erring- 
ton can do no wrong in ycur eyes. Let us wish him success 
in his wooing. So 1 am net to be your escort to Sandbourne? 
You ought to let me be your courier, 1 have knocked about so 
much. I thought I’d take to the road in the modern sense, 
when I came to my last sou, if the poor old lord had not died. 
Now I am going to be a pattern man as landlord, peer, and 
sportsman. Can’t give up that, you know. ” 

44 1 do not see why you should.” 

44 1 see you are looking at the clock; that means I am stay- 
ing too long. You don’t know how delightful it is to sit here 
talking to you, without any third person to bore us.” 

44 1 don’t mean to be rude. Lord He Burgh, but you see I 
have letters to write for my chief.” 

44 The deuce you have! It is too awful to see you in 
slavery. ” 

44 Very pleasant, easy slavery.” 

44 So this chief of yours gives parties, receptions, at homes. 
Why doesn’t she ask me?” 

44 1 am sure she would if she knew of your existence.” 

44 Do you mean to say you have never mentioned me to her, 
nor enlarged upon my many delightful and noble qualities?” 

44 1 am ashamed to say I have not.” 

Lord De Burgh rose slowly and reluctantly. 44 Are you 
going to bring the boys here?” 

44 No; Miss Payne has most kindly invited them to stay 
with her. As yet she has not found any one to replace me. 
Poor little souls, I shall be glad when their holidays are over, 
for I fear they are not the same joy to Miss Payne as they are 
to me. ” 

44 Ah! believe me, you want some help in bringing up a 
couple of boys. Just fancy what Cis will be six or. seven years 
hence. Why, he’ll play the devil if he hasn’t a strong hand 
over him.” 


336 


A CROOKED PATH. 


66 1 don't believe it!" cried Katherine, smiling. 44 Why 
should he be worse than other boys?" 

44 Why should he be better?" 

44 Well, I can but do my best for them," said Katherine, 
with a sigh. 

44 I am a brute to prophesy evil, when you have enough to 
contend with already," cried De Burgh, taking her hand, and 
looking into her eyes with an expression she could not mis- 
understand. 

44 You must not exaggerate my troubles," returned Kath- 
erine, with a sweet bright smile on her lips and in her eyes that 
thanked him for his sympathy, even while she gently withdrew 
her hand. 

4 4 1 wish you would let me help you," said De Burgh; and 
as her lips parted to reply, he went on, hastily: 44 No, no; 
don't answer — not yet, at least. You will only say something 
disagreeable, in spite of your charming lips. Now I'll not in- 
trude on you any longer. I suppose there is no objection to 
my calling on the young gentlemen at Miss Payne's, and tak- 
ing them to a circus, or Madame Tussaud's, or any other dis- 
sipation suited to their tender years?" 

44 My dear Lord De Burgh, what an infliction for you! and 
how very good of you to think of them! Pray do not trouble 
about them." 

44 1 understand," said De Burgh. 44 I'll leave my card for 
your chief below; and be sure you don't forget me when you 
are sending out cards. By the way, 1 have a pressing invita- 
tion to Castleford. When I write to refuse I'll say I have seen 
you, and that I am going to take charge of the boys during 
the holidays." 

44 No, no; pray do not. Lord De Burgh," cried Katherine, 
eagerly. 44 You know Ada, and—" 

44 Are you ashamed to have me as a coadjutor?" interrupted 
De Burgh, laughing. 44 Trust me; 1 will be prudent. Good- 
bye for the present. " 

Katherine stood in silent thought for a few moments after 
he had gone. She fully understood the meaning of his visit, 
though there had been little or nothing of the lover in his 
tone. He had come as soon as possible to place himself and 
all he had at her disposal. He was perfectly sincere in his de- 
sire to win her for his wife, and she almost regretted she could 
not return his affection: it might be true affection — something 
beyond and above the dominant whim of an imperious nature. 
And what a solution to all her difficulties! But it was impos- 
sible she could overcome the repulsion with the idea of mar- 


A CROOKED PATH. 


337 


riage with any man she did not love inspired. There was to 
her but one in the world to whom she could hold allegiance, 
and lie was forbidden by all sense of self-respect and modesty. 
How was it that, strive as she might, to fill her mind to his ex- 
clusion, the moment she was off guard the image of Errington 
rose up clear and fresh; pervading heart and imagination, and 
dwarfing every other object? 

“ How miserably, contemptibly weak I am, and have always 
been! Why did I not stifle this wretched, overpowering at- 
traction in the beginning?” Ay! but when did it begin? 

This is a sort of question no heart can answer. Who can 
foresee that the tiny spring, forcing its way up among the 
stones and heather of a lonely hill-side, will grow into the 
broad river, which may carry peace and prosperity on its roll- 
ing tide to the lands below, or overwhelm them with destruc- 
tive floods, according to the forces which feed it and the bar- 
riers which hedge it in? 


CHAPTER XXX. 

“CIS AND CHARLIE,.” 

Again the spring sunshine was lending perennial youth even 
to London's dingy streets, and making the very best winter 
garments look dim and shabby. Hunting was over, and 
•Colonel Ormonde found himself, by the will of his wife, once 
more established in London lodgings — of a dingier and ob- 
scurer order than those in which they had enjoyed last season. 

Mrs. Ormonde was neither intellectually nor morally strong, 
but she had one* reflex ingredient in her nature which was to 
her both a shield and spear. She knew what she wanted, and 
was perfectly unscrupulous as to the means of getting it. A 
woman who is pleasantly indifferent to the wants and wishes 
of her associates, if they happen to clash with her own, is tol- 
erably sure to have her own way on the whole. Now and 
then, to be sure, she comes to grief; but in her general success 
these failures can be afforded. 

When first the tidings of George Liddell's return and his as- 
sertion of rights reached her, she was terrified and undone by 
Colonel Ormonde's fury against Katherine, herself, her boys, 
every one. In short, that gallant officer thought he had done 
a generous and manly thing, when he married the piquant lit- 
tle widow who had attracted him, although she could only 
meet her personal expenses and those of her two sons without 
contributing to the general housekeeping. This sense of his 
own magnanimity, backed by the consciousness that it did not 


338 


A CROOKED PATH. 


cost him too dear, had kept Colonel Ormonde in the happiest 
of moods for the first years of his married life. Terrible was the 
awakening from the dream of his own good luck and general 
“ fine-fellowism;” and heavily would the punishment have 
fallen on his wife had she been a sensitive or high-minded 
woman. Being, however, admirably suited to the partner of 
her life, she looked round, as soon as the first burst of despair 
was over, to see how she could make the best of her position. 

She was really vexed and irritated to find how little tender- 
ness or regard her husband felt for her, for she had always be- 
lieved that he was greatly devoted to her. To both of them 
the outside world was all in all, and on this Mrs. Ormonde 
counted largely. Colonel Ormonde could not put her away or 
lock her up, because the provision made by Katherine for the 
boys failed her, so while she was mistress of Castleford she 
must have dresses and carriages and consideration. Knowing 
herself secure on these points, she fearlessly adopted the system 
of counter-irritation she described to Katherine; and to do her 
justice, her consciousness that the boys were safe under the 
care of their aunt, who would be sure to treat them well and 
kindly, made her the more ready to brave the dangers of her 
husband’s wrath. 

“ He must behave well before people, or men will say he is 
a ‘ cad ’ to visit his disappointment on his poor little simple- 
hearted wife,” she thought. “ He knows tli, t. Then it is an 
enormous relief that Katherine still clings to the. boys, poor 
dears! She really is a trump; so 1 have only myself to think 
of; and ’Duke shall find that his shabbiness and ill-temper do 
him no good. It’s like drawing his teeth to get my quarter’s 
allowance, beggarly as it is, from him.” 

Colonel Ormonde’s reflections, as he composed a letter to his 
steward, were by no means soothing. Though it was all but 
impossible for him to hold his tongue respecting his disappoint- 
ment, whenever a shade of difference occurred between him 
and his wife, he was uncomfortably conscious that he often 
acted like a brute toward the mother of his boy, of whom he 
was so proud; he was not therefore the more disposed to rule 
his hasty, inconsiderate temper. The fact that Mrs. Ormonde 
had her own methods of paying him back disposed him to re- 
spect her, and it could not be doubted that in time the friction 
of their natures would rub off the angles of each, and they 
would settle down into tolerable harmony, whereas a proud, 
true-hearted woman in her place would have been utterly 
crushed and never forgiven. 

Ormonde, then, was meditating on his undeserved misfort- 


A CROOKED PATH. 


339 


unes, when the door was somewhat suddenly and vehemently 
pushed open, and Mrs. Ormonde came in, her eyes sparkling, 
and evidently in some excitement. 

“ What's the matter?" «asked her husband, not too amiably. 
“Has that rascally, intruding fellow Liddell kicked the 
bucket?" 

“ No; but whom do you think 1 saw as I was leaving Mrs. 
Bennett's, in Hyde Park Square, you know?" 

“ How can I tell? The policeman perhaps." 

“Nonsense, 'Duke! I had just come down the steps, and 
was turning toward Paddington, for, as it was early, 1 thought 
I would take the omnibus to Oxford Circus (see how careful I 
am!), when I saw a beautiful dark brougham, drawn by a 
splendid black horse — the coachman, the whole turnout, quite 
first-rate — come at a dashing pace toward me. I recognized 
Lord De Burgh inside, and who do you think was sitting be- 
side him?" 

“ God knows! The Saratoffski perhaps." 

“ Keally, Ormonde, I am astonished at your mentioning that 
dreadful woman to me." 

“ Oh! are you? Well, who was De Burgh's companion?" 

“ Charlie! my Charlie! and Cis was on the front seat. Cis 
saw me, for he clapped his hands and pointed as they flew 
past. What do you think of that?" 

“ By George!" he exclaimed, in capital letters. “ I believe 
he is still after Katherine. If so, she'll have the devil's own 
luck." 

“ Now listen to me. As Wilton Street was quite near, 1 
went on there to gather what 1 could from Miss Payne. She 
was at home, and a little less sour and silent than usual. She 
was sorry, she said, the boys were out. They have been with 
her for a week, and Lord De Burgh had been most kind. He 
had taken them to the Zoological Gardens and Madame Tus- 
saud's, and just now had called for them to go to the circus. 
Isn't it wonderful? Do try and picture De Burgh at Madame 
Tussaud's." * 

“ There is only one way of accounting for such strange con- 
duct," returned the colonel, thoughtfully. “ He means to 
marry your sister. This would change the face of affairs con- 
siderably." 

“ Yes; it would be delightful." 

“I'm not so sure of that," returned Ormonde, seriously. 
“Now that he is in love — and you know he is all fire and tow 
— he makes a fuss about the boys; but wait till he is married, 
and he will try to shift them back on you. Why should he 


340 


A CROOKED PATH. 


put up with his wife's nephews any more than 1 do with my 
wife's sons?" 


44 Because he is more in love, and a good deal richer/' re- 
torted Mrs. Ormonde. * 

44 More in love! Bosh! In the middle of the fever, you 
mean. Of course that will pass over. " 

4 4 Really men are great brutes," observed Mrs. Ormonde, 
philosophically. 

44 And women awful fools," added her husband. 

44 Well, perhaps so," she returned, with a slight smile and 
a sharp glance. 

44 Seriously, though," resumed Colonel Ormonde, 44 it's all 
very well for Katherine to make a good match, and if De 
Burgh is fool enough to be in earnest, it will be a splendid 
match for her; but things may be made rather rough for me. 
That fellow De Burgh has the queerest crotchets, and doesn't 
hesitate to air them. He'd think nothing of slapping my 
shoulder in the club before a dozen members, and asking me if 
I meant to leave my wife's brats on his hands." 

44 Do you really think so? Oh, Katherine would never let 
him. She dearly loves the boys." . 

44 Wait till she has a son of her own." 

44 Even so. She has her faults, I know. Her temper is 
rather violent, her ideas are too. high-flown and nonsensical, 
and she won't take advice, but she never would injure me, I am 
sure of that." 

An inarticulate grunt from Colonel Ormonde, as he fixed 
his double glass on his nose and took up his pen again. 

44 'Duke," resumed Mrs. Ormonde, after a pause, 44 don't 
you think I would better go and see Katherine? You know we 
never had any quarrel, and that Mrs. Needham she lives with 
gives very nice parties." 

44 Parties! By Jove! you'd go to old Nick for a party. 
What good will it do you to meet a pack of beggarly scrib- 
blers?" 

44 They may not have money, 'Duke, but they have manners , 
and something to say for themselves," she retorted. 44 Never 
mind about the parties. Don't you think I would better call 
on Katherine?" 

44 Do as you like. I consider that she has behaved very 
badly — with extreme insolence; bujt I don't want to influence 
you." This in a tone of magnanimity, as he began to write 
with an air of profound attention. 

Mrs. Ormonde made a swift, contemptuous grimace at his 
back, and said, in mellifluous tones: 44 Very well, dear. I 






A CKOOKED PATH. 


341 


may as well go at once, and perhaps she will come with me to 
that dress-making ally of hers. Miss Trant. I hear she is 
raising her prices, but she will not do so to me if I am with her 
original patroness. " 

“ Oh, do as you like; only don't send me in a long milliner's 
bill." 

“ I am sure, 'Duke, my clothes never cost you much." 

“ Not so far, but the future looks rather blue." 

To this she made no reply. Leaving the room noiselessly, 
she retired to give a touch of kohl to her eyes, a dust of pearl 
powder to her cheeks, and then started on her mission of in- 
quiry and reconciliation. 

It is not to be denied that Katherine was greatly touched by 
De Burgh's thoughtful kindness to her boys. She had been a 
good deal troubled about their holidays, for she did not like to 
take full advantage of Mrs. Needham's kind permission to ab- 
sent herself as much as she liked in order to be with them, 
and she well knew that in Miss Payne's very orderly establish- 
ment the two restless, active little fellows would be a most 
discordant ingredient. Above all, she wanted them to have a 
very happy holiday, as she feared their cloudless sunny days 
were numbered. 

The second morning, therefore, after she had deposited 
them in Wilton Street, when she went to inquire for them, 
and found that Lord De Burgh had called and carried them 
off to have luncheon with him first, and to spend the after- 
noon at the Zoological Gardens after, she could hardly credit 
her ears. 

“ I must say," observed Miss Payne, “ that I am agreeably 
surprised. I had no idea Lord De Burgh was so straightfor- 
ward and well-disposed a man. A little abrupt, and would 
not stand any nonsense, I fancy, but a sterling character. He 
has tact too. He always spoke of the boys as his cousin 
Colonel Ormonde's step-sons. He might be a good friend to 
them, Katherine." 

“ No doubt," she replied, thoughtfully. 

“ He will send his butler or house-steward to take them to 
Kew Gardens to-morrow; but I dare say he will call and tell 
you himself." 

“ He is wonderfully good," said Katherine, feeling puzzled 
and oppressed. “ I will go back, then, as fast as I can, and 
get my work done by six o'clock; then I may spend the even* 
ing here with you and the boys. " 

“ Pray do, if you can manage it." 


342 


A CKOOKED PATH. 


Lord De Burgh's remarkable conduct troubled Katherine a 
good deal. How ought she to act? Certainly he would not 
put himself out of the way for Cis and Charlie, had he not 
wished to please her, or really interested himself in them for 
her sake. Ought she to encourage him by accepting these very 
useful and kindly attentions? How could she reject them 
without saying as plainly by action as in words, 44 1 know } r ou 
are pressing your suit upon me, and I will not have it," which, 
after all, might be a mistake; besides, she would thus deprive 
her nephews of much pleasure. She could not come to a con- 
clusion; she must let herself drift. But the question torment- 
ed her, and it was with an effort she banished it, and applied 
herself to her task of arranging her chief's notes. 

Mrs. Needham was exceedingly busy that afternoon, and 
did not go out, as she had some provincial and colonial letters 
to finish, and had a couple of engagements in the evening. 
She and her secretary therefore wrote diligently till about half 
past five, when Ford, the smart parlor-maid, announced that 
46 the gentleman " and two little boys were in the drawing- 
room. 

44 Good gracious!" cried Mrs. Needham, slipping off her 
glasses. 4 ‘ This is growing interesting. I shall go and speak 
to Lord De Burgh myself. Besides, 1 want to see your boys, 
my dear. How funny it sounds!" 

44 Do, Mrs. Needham. I will come." 

Lord De Burgh was glaring absently out of the window, and 
the boys were eagerly examining the diverse and sundry ob- 
jects thickly scattered around. They had wonderfully dirty 
hands and faces, their jackets were splashed as if with some 
foaming beverage, the knees of their knickerbockers were 
grubby with gravel and grass, and they had generally the 
aspect of having done wildly what they listed for some hours. 

44 Lord De Burgh, I suppose?" said Mrs. Needham, in loud 
and cheerful accents. 44 1 am very pleased to see you " (De 
Burgh bowed); 44 and you, my dears — I am very glad to see 
you too, especially if you will be so good as not to touch my 
china!" 

44 We haven't broken anything!" cried Cecil, coming up to 
her and giving her a dingy little paw, while he stared in her 
face. fc4 Where is auntie?" 

44 She'll be here directly. This is Charlie: what a sweet lit- 
tle fellow! Why, your eyes are like your aunt's." 

44 Do you think so?" said De Burgh, drawingnear. 44 They 
are lighter — a good deal lighter." 


A CROOKED PATH. 343 

“ Perhaps so. The shape and expression are like, though. 
And so you have been to see the lions and tigers?” 

“ And the bears,” put in Charlie. 

“ Isn’t Lord De Burgh kind to take you — ” 

“He is! he’s a jolly chap!” cried Cecil, warmly. “I 
shouldn’t mind living with him.” 

“ Nor I either,” added Charlie. 

Here Katherine made her appearance, a conscious look in 
her eyes, a flitting blush on her cheek. The boys immediately 
flew to hug and kiss her, barely allowing her to shake hands 
with De Burgh. Then, when she sat down on the sofa, Char- 
lie established himself on her knee, and Cecil knelt on the 
sofa, the better to put his arms round her neck. 

“ What dreadfully dirty little boys! What have you been 
doing to yourselves?” 

“ Oh, we have been on the elephant and the camel, and in 
the ostrich cart. Then Charlie tumbled down in the monkey- 
house. Oh, how funny the monkeys are! and he” (pointing 
to Lord De Burgh) “ took us to dinner. Such a beautiful 
dinner in a lovely room! He says he will take us to the cir- 
cus.” 

“ I’ll ask him to take you too, auntie!” cried Charlie. 

“Oh, yes!” echoed Cecil. “You’ll take her. Lord De 
Burgh, won’t you? I don’t think auntie ever saw a circus.” 

“ If you promise to be very good, and that your aunt too 
will be quiet and well-behaved, I may be induced to let her 
come,” returned De Burgh, his deepset eyes glittering with 
fun and anticipated pleasure. 

“ Thank you,” said Katherine, laughing, as soon as her de- 
lighted nephew ceased kissing her. 

“ And you’ll come? — the day after to-morrow? I will call 
for the boys, and bring them round here.” 

“ If I have nothing special — ” she began. 

“ Certainly not; I will take care of that,” cried Mrs. Need- 
ham. “ It is such a great thing to get a little amusement for 
the poor little fellows, and so very kind of Lord De Burgh to 
take so much trouble.” 

“It is indeed. 1 really don’t know how to thank you 
enough,” said Katherine. “Mrs. Needham, I must really 
take them to wash their hands; they are so terribly dirty!” 

“ No; ring the bell; Ford will manage them nicely, and 
bring them back in a few minutes.” Mrs. Needham rang 
energetically as she spoke, and the young gentlemen were 
speedily marched off. 

“I am afraid I am not a wise child’s guide,” said De 


344 


A OKOOKED PATH. 


Burgh, laughing; “ but they ran and tumbled about till they 
got into an awful pickle. They are really capital little fellows, 
and most amusing. When do they go back to school?” 

“ In about ten days — on the 25 th. I assure you I quite 
dread their going to this Wandsworth place. They have been 
asking, entreating me to let them go back to Sand bourne, but 
I think Cis at last grasps the idea that it is a question of 
money. ” 

“ It's an early initiation for him,” observed De Burgh, as 
if to himself. Then, eagerly: 66 You’ll be sure to come with 
us on Friday, Miss Liddell? The boys will enjoy the perform- 
ance ever so much more if you are with them.” 

Katherine looked for haif a second at Mrs. Needham, who 
nodded and frowned in a very energetic and affirmative way. 
“ I shall be very glad to enjoy it with them,” she said, hesi- 
tatingly, “ if Mrs. Needham can spare me.” 

“Of course I can” — briskly. “Lord De Burgh, if you 
care for music — not severe classical music, you know — ballads, 
recitatives, and that sort of thing — Hyacinth O’Hara, the new 
tenor, and Mr. Merrydew, that wonderful mimic and singer, 
are coming to me next Tuesday; I shall be delighted to see 
you.” 

“ Not so delighted, I am sure, as I shall be to come,” re- 
turned De Burgh, with unusual suavity. 

“ Very well — half past nine. Don’t be late, and don’t for- 
get.” 

“ No danger of forgetting, I assure you.” 

“ By the bye,” resumed Mrs. Needham, as if seized with a 
happy thought, “ Angela Bradley receives on Sunday after- 
noons at their delightful villa at Wimbledon all through the 
season. Her first k at home ’ will be the Sunday after next. 
I am sure she will be delighted to see any friend of Miss Lid- 
dell’s.” 

“If Miss Liddell will be so good as to answer for me, I 
shall be most happy to present myself. To make sure of being 
properly backed up, suppose I call here for Miss Liddell and 
yourself, and drive you down?” 

“Is it not rather far off to make arrangements?” asked 
Katherine, growing somewhat uneasy at thus drifting into a 
succession of engagements with the man she half liked, half 
dreaded. 

“Far off!” echoed Mrs. Needham. “You don’t call ten 
days far off? But I must run away and finish my letter. A 
journalist is the slave of her pen. Good-morning, Lord De 
Burgh. I’ll send the boys to you, Katherine.” 


A CROOKED PATH. 


345 


44 That is an admirable and meritorious woman/ ' said De 
Burgh, drawing a chair beside the sofa where Katherine sat. 
44 Why are you so savagely opposed to anything like friendly 
intercourse with me — so reluctant to let me do anything for 
you? Do you think I am such a cad as to think that anything 
I could do would entitle me to consider you under an obliga- 
tion?” 

44 No, indeed. Lord De Burgh! I believe you to be too true 
a gentleman for — ” 

44 For what? I see you are afraid of giving me what is 
called, in the slang of the matrimonial market, encourage- 
ment. Just put all that out of your mind. Let me have a 
little enjoyment, however things may end, and, believe me. 
I'll never blame you. I am not going to trouble you with my 
hopes and wishes, not at least for some time; and then, what- 
ever the upshot, on my head be it. ” 

44 But I can not bear to give you pain.” 

44 Then don't — ” 

44 Auntie, we are quite clean. Won't you come back to tea 
at Miss Payne's? Do make her come, Lord De Burgh.” 

44 Ah, it is beyond my powers to make her do anything.” 

44 1 can not come now, my darlings; but I will be with you 
about half past six, and we'll have a game before you go to 
bed.” 

44 Come along, boys; we have intruded on your aunt long 
enough. Don't forget the circus on Friday, Miss Liddell. ” 

Another hug from Cis and Charlie, a slight hand pressure 
from their newly found playfellow, and Katherine was left to 
her own reflections. 

The expedition to the circus was most successful. It was on 
his way from Wilton Street to call for Katherine, on this occa- 
sion, that De Burgh encountered Mrs. Ormonde. Need we 
say that she lost no time in making the proposed call on her 
sister-in-law; unfortunately Katherine was out; so Mrs. Or- 
monde was reduced to writing a requisition for an interview 
with her boys and their aunt. 

This was .accordingly planned at Miss Payne's house, and 
Mrs. Ormonde was quite charming, playful, affectionate, tear- 
ful, repentant, apologetic for 44 Ormonde,” and deeply moved 
at parting from her boys, who were somewhat awed by this 
display of feeling. Still she did not succeed in breaking the 
44 cold chain of silence ” which Katherine persisted in 44 hang- 
ing ” over the events of the past week. 

64 So De Burgh took the boys about everywhere?” said Mrs. 


346 


A CROOKED PATH. 


Ormonde, as Katherine went down-stairs with her when she 
was leaving, and they were alone together. “ It is something 
new for him to play the part of childrens maid; and, do you 
know, he only left cards on us, and never asked to come in.” 

“ He was always good-natured,” returned Katherine, with 
some embarrassment; 4 6 and, you remember, he used to notice 
Cis and Charlie at Castleford a good deal.” 

‘‘Yes; after you came,” significantly. “Never mind, 
Katie, dear, I am not going to worry you with troublesome 
questions; but 1 am sure no one in the world would be more 
delighted than myself did you make a brilliant match.” 

“ Believe me, there will never be anything brilliant about 
me, Ada.” 

“ Well, we'll see. When do you take the boys to school?” 

“ On Wednesday; shopld you like to come and see the 
place?” 

“ I should like it of all things; but 1 mustn't, dear.” 

“ I do hope the school may prove all I expect; but the 
change will be bad for Charlie. He had lost nearly all his 
nervousness; strange teachers and a new system may bring it 
back.” 

“ Oh, I hope not. Does he still stop short and speechless, 
and then laugh as if it were a good joke, when he is puzzled or 
frightened?” 

“ Very rarely, I believe. I will write to you the day after I 
leave the boys at Wandsworth. They don't like going at all, 
poor dears. ” 

“ Well, we shall not be much longer in town, I am sorry to 
say, and I want a few things from Miss Trant before I go. I 
suppose she will not raise her prices to me?” 

“ Oh, no, I am sure she will not.” 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

“MISS BRADLEY AT HOME.” 

It was a bleak, blowy day when Katherine took the boys to 
school, and on returning she went straight to Miss Payne, who 
had promised to have tea ready for her. 

Somewhat to her regret, she found only Bertie Payne, who 
explained that his sister had been called away about some busi- 
ness connected with a lady with whom she was trying to come 
to terms respecting her house, which she had now decided on 
letting. 

“ And how did you part with the boys?” he asked, when 


A CROOKED PATH. 347 

he had given her a cup of tea and brought her the most com- 
fortable chair. 

44 It was very hard to leave them/* returned Katherine, 
whose eyes looked suspiciously like recently shed tears. 46 The 
place did not look half so nice to-day as I thought it was. 
Everything is rough and ready. The second master, too, is a 
harsh, severe - looking man. Of course he has not much 
authority; still, had 1 seen him, I do not think 1 should have 
agreed to send Cis and Charlie there; but now 1 am com- 
mitted to a quarter. I can not afford to indulge whims, and, 
at all events, they are within an easy distance. Charlie looked 
so white, and clung to me as if he would never let me go! 
How hard life is!” 

44 This portion of it is, and wisely so. We must set our 
affections on things above. 1 have been learning this lesson 
of late as I never thought I should have to learn it.” 

44 You? — you who are so good, so unworldly? Oh, Mr. 
Payne, what do you mean? You are looking ill and worn.” 

44 1 have been fighting a battle of late,” he returned, with 
his sweet, patient smile, 44 and I have conquered. The right 
road has been shown to me, the right way, and I am deter- 
mined to walk in it.” 

44 What are you going to do?” asked Katherine, with a feel- 
ing of alarm. 

44 1 am going to take orders, and join the missionary ranks, 
either in India or China. Work in England was growing too 
easy — too heavenly sweet — to be any longer saving to my own 
soul.” 

44 But, Mr. Payne, don't you see that your own poor coun- 
try people have the first claim upon you — that you are leaving 
a work for which you are so wonderfully well suited, in which 
you are so successful? Oh, do think! Here you leave people 
of your own race, whose wants, whose characters you can 
understand, to run away to creatures of another climate — a 
different stock — whose natures, in my opinion, unfit them for 
a faith such as ours, and who never, never will accept our re- 
ligion!” 

44 Hush!” cried Payne, in an excited tone. 44 Do not tort- 
ure me by showing the appalling gulf which separates us. 
Strange that a heart so tender as yours to all mere human 
miseries should yet be adamant against the Saviour's loving 
touch. This has been my cruel cross, and my only safety lies 
in flight, wretched man that I am!” 

44 1 am dreadfully distressed about you, Mr. Payne. Does 
your sister know? It is really unkind to her.” 


348 


A CROOKED PATH. 


“ That must not weigh with me. Even if the right hand 
offends you, 6 cut it off/ is the command.” 

At all events, you must study, or go through some prepara- 
tion, before you are ordained, and perhaps in that interval you 
may change your views. I do hope you will. I should be in- 
deed sorry to lose sight of a true friend like yourself.” 

“ A friend!” he returned, his brow contracting as if with 
pain. 64 You do not know the depths of my selfishness — ” 

The entrance of Miss Payne interrupted the conversation, 
and Bertie immediately changing the subject, Katherine under- 
stood that he did not as yet intend to speak to his sister of his 
new plans. 

To Miss Payne, Katherine had again to describe her parting 
with her nephews, and she, in her turn, talked comfortably of 
her affairs. She thought of going abroad for a short time 
should she let her house, as nothing very eligible offered in the 
shape of a young lady to chaperon. Indeed, she was somewhat 
tired of that sort of life, etc., etc. At length Katherine bade 
them adieu, and returned to her present abode with a very 
sad heart. 

The parting with her nephews had been a sore trial. The 
idea of Bertie, her kind friend, whose sympathetic companion- 
ship had helped her so much to overcome the poignancy of her 
first grief for her dear mother, going away to banishment, and 
perhaps death, at the hands of those whose souls he went to 
save, caused her the keenest pain; and for nearly a fortnight 
she had not seen Errington! She could not bring herself to 
ask where he was, and no one had happened to mention him. 
This was really better. His absence should be a help to for- 
getfulness; but somehow it was not. He was so vividly before 
her eyes; his voice sounded so perpetually in her heart. 

Why could she not think thus of De Burgh, whose devotion 
to her was evident, and whom, in spite of herself as it seemed, 
she was, to a certain degree, encouraging? 

She felt unutterably helpless and oppressed. Moreover, she 
was distressed by the consciousness that the small reserve fund 
which she had with difficulty preserved, could barely meet un- 
expected demands such as removing the boys from school, if 
necessary, an attack of illness, a dozen contingencies, any or 
all of which were possible, if not imminent. 

Such a mood made her feel peculiarly unfit to shine at Mrs. 
Needham's reception. 

Still, it was better to be obliged to talk to and think about 
others than to brood perpetually on her own troubles. So she 
arrayed herself in one of the pretty soft gray demi - toilet 


A CROOKED PATH. 


349 


dregses which remained among her well-stocked wardrobe, and 
prepared to assist her chief in receiving her guests, vyho soon 
flocked in so rapidly as to make separate receptions impossible. 
Miss Bradley came early, arrayed in white silk and lace, with 
diamond stars in her coronet of thickly plaited red hair. She 
was looking radiantly well, so well and unusually animated 
that her aspect struck sudden terror into Katherine’s heart; 
something had gladdened her heart, to give that expression of 
joyous softness to her eyes. But it was weak and contempti- 
ble to let this sudden fear overmaster her, so she strove to be 
amused and interested in the conversation of those she knew, 
and her acquaintance had increased enormously since she came 
to reside with Mrs. Needham. Presently she caught sight of a 
stately head above the general level of the crowd, $nd a pair 
of grave eyes evidently seeking something. Whom was Erring- 
ton looking for? Miss Bradley, of course. As she arrived at. 
this conclusion, De Burgh appeared at the head of the stairs, 
looking, as he always did, extremely distinguished, his dark 
strong face showing in remarkable contrast to the simpering 
young minstrels, pale young poets, and long-haired professors 
who formed the larger half of the male guests. 

66 Well, Miss Liddell, are you quite well and flourishing? 
Why, it is quite three days since I saw you,” he said, and his 
eyes dwelt on her with a look of utter, restful satisfaction, a 
look that distressed her. 

“ Is it, indeed? They seem all rolled into a single disagree- 
able one to me. ” 

“ Tell me about it all,” said De Burgh, in a low, confiden- 
tial tone. “Must you stand here in the gangway? It's 
awfully hot and crowded.” 

Before she could reply, Errington forced his way through 
the crowd and addressed her. 

“ I began to fear I should not find you, Miss Liddell,” he 
said, with a pleasant smile. “ I have been away for some 
time*, though perhaps you were not aware of it.” 

“ I was aware we did not see you as frequently as usual. 
Where have you been?” 

“ On a secret and delicate mission, which taxed all my 
diplomatic skill, for I had to deal with an extremely crotchety 
Scotchman. ” 

“You make me feel desperately curious,” said Katherine, 
languidly. 

“ How do ye do, Errington?” put in De Burgh. “ I heard 
of you in Edinburgh last week;” and they exchanged a few 
words. Then, to Katherine’s annoyance, De Burgh said, with 


350 


A CROOKED PATH. 


an air of proprietorship,, u Iam going to take Miss Liddell out 
of this mob, to take tea and air, if we can get any. I have to 
hear news too,” he added, significantly. 

Errington grew very grave, and drew back immediately, 
with a slight bow as if he accepted a dismissal. 

There was no help for it, so Katherine took De BurglTs 
offered arm and went down-stairs. 

44 I wonder what the secret mission could have been?” said 
Katherine, when they found themselves in the tea-room. 

44 God knows! I wonder Errington did not go in for diplo- 
macy when he smashed up. He is just the man for protocols 
and solemn mysteries and all that.” 

“Men can not jump into diplomatic appointments, can 
they?” 

44 No, I suppose not. I hear some of Errington's political 

articles have attracted Lord G 's notice. They say he'll 

be in Parliament one of these days. Well, he deserves to win, 
if that sort of thing be worth winning.” 

44 Of course it is. Have you no ambition, Lord De Burgh? 
Were I a man, I should be very ambitious.” 

44 1 have no doubt you would; and if you had a husband, 
you'd drive him up the ladder at the bayonet's point.” 

44 Poor man! I pity him beforehand.” 

44 1 don't,” returned De Burgh, shortly. 44 Do you know, 
I have just been dining with Ormonde and his wife, not as 
their guest, but at Lady Mary Vincent's. Tell me, hasn't he 
behaved rather badly to you? I want to know, because I 
don't want to cut him without reason.” 

44 Pray do not cut him on my account, Lord De Burgh. 
Colonel Ormonde has very naturally, for a man of his caliber, 
felt disgusted at my inability to carry out my original arrange- 
ments respecting my nephews, and he showed his displeasure, 
after his kind, with remarkable frankness; but I am not the 
least angry, and I beg you will make no difference for my 
sake.” 

44 If you really wish it.” He paused, and then went on: 
44 Mrs. Ormonde whined a good deal to me in a corner about 
her affection for you, her hard fate, Ormonde's brutality, etc., 
etc. She is a rusee little devil.” 

4 4 Poor Ada ! I fancy she has not had a pleasant time of it. 
Had she been a woman of feeling, it would have been too 
dreadful.” 

44 Well, you may make your mind easy on that score. Now, 
what about the boys?” 

Katherine was vexed to find how impossible it was to talk of 


A CROOKED PATH. 


351 


them with composure. She was unhinged in some unaccount- 
able way, and Lord De Burgh's ill-repressed tenderness made 
her feel nervous. At length she asked him to come upstairs 
and look for Mrs. Needham, as her head ached, and she 
thought she would like to retire if she could be spared. 

44 Yes, you would be better. You don't seem up to much," 
he returned, pressing her hand slightly against his side. 44 1 
can't bear to see you look worried and ill. That's not a civil 
speech, I suppose; but, ill or well, you know your face is 
always the sweetest to me, and 1 am always dying to know 
what you are thinking of. There! 1 will not worry you now, 
but shall you be 4 fit ' for this function on Sunday?" 

44 Oh, yes; quite." 

44 1 am obliged to run down to Wales — some matters there 
want the master's eye, they tell me; but I shall return on Fri- 
day or Saturday. By the way, 1 wish you would introduce me 
to this wonderful Angela of Mrs. Needham's." 

44 Certainly." On entering the drawing-room the first 
forms that met their eyes were those of Errington and Miss 
Bradley. She was sitting in a large crimson velvet chair, 
against the back of which Errington was leaning. Angela was 
looking up at him with a peculiarly happy, absorbed expres- 
sion, while his head was bent toward her. 

44 She is awfully handsome," said De Burgh, critically; 
44 and much too pleasantly engaged to be interrupted. I can 
wait." 

“ Yes, I think it would be unkind to break in on such a 
conversation. Oh, here is Mrs. Needham. Do you want me 
very much, Mrs. Needham? because if not, I should like to go 
to bed; I have a tiresome headache." 

44 Go by all means, my dear; you are looking like a ghost. 
They are all talking and amusing each other now, and don't 
want you or me." 

44 Good-night, then," said Katherine, giving her hand to 
De Burgh; and she glided away. 

44 What a lot she takes out of herself!" said De Burgh, look- 
ing after her. 

44 She does indeed!" cried Mrs. Needham. 44 She is so un- 
selfish, I hate to see her worried. I wonder if he has pro- 
posed?" she thought. 44 1 think he is pretty far gone. Now 
pray don't run away just now; Merrydew is going to give one 
of his musical sketches. And then I want to introduce you to 
Professor Gypsum. He thinks there ought to be a rich coal- 
seam on your South Wales property. He is a most intelligent, 
accomplished man." 


352 


A CROOKED PATH. 


“Very well, with pleasure,” said De Burgh, compla- 
cently. 

It was rather a relief to be quite sure that De Burgh was 
safely out of the way for a few clays. His presence always dis- 
turbed her with a mixed sense of pain and self-reproach. He 
gave her no opening to warn him off, yet she felt that he lost 
no opportunity of pushing his mines up to the defenses. And 
she liked him — liked him sincerely — always believing there was 
much undeveloped goodness under his rough exterior. 

Sunday came quickly, for the intervening days had been 
very fully occupied, and thus Katherine had been saved from 
too much thought of the boys and their possible trials. 

It was a soft, lovely spring day. The lilacs and laburnums 
had put on their ball-dresses for the season, and there was a 
fresh, youthful feeling in the air. 

The villa of which Angela was the happy mistress was one 
of the few old places standing on the edge of the Common at 
Wimbledon, and b6asting mossy-green lawn, huge cedar-trees, 
and delightful shrubberies; paths leading through a well-dis- 
posed patch of plantation, and a fine view from the windows 
of the deep red-brick mansion with its copings, window-heads, 
and pediments of white stone. 

Katherine started with a brave determination to throw off 
dull care and enjoy herself if possible. Why should she not? 
Life had many sides; and though the present was gloomy, 
there was no reason why its clouds should not hide bright sun- 
shine which lay awaiting the future. She had maneuvered 
that Mrs. Needham should join an elderly couple of their ac- 
quaintance in an open carriage, and so avoided appearing in 
Lord De Burgh’s elegant equipage. 

The grounds were already dotted with gayly dressed groups; 
for although there were no formally invited guests. Miss Brad- 
ley’s Sundays were largely attended by her extensive circle of 
acquaintance, and this first Sabbath of really fine spring 
weather brought a larger number than usual. 

“ I am glad you put on that pretty black and white dress,” 
whispered Mrs. Needham, as they alighted and went into the 
hall; “ I see all are in their best bibs and tuckers. Isn’t it a 
lovely house? Ah! many a poor author’s brain has paid toll 
to provide all this.” 

“ I suppose so.” 

“ Miss Bradley is in the conservatory,” said a polite butler; 
and into a deliciously fragrant conservatory they were ushered. 

“ Very glad to see you. Miss Liddell,” said Angela, kindly, 


A CROOKED PATH. 


353 


when she had greeted Mrs. Needham. 44 This is your first 
visit to the Court. Do you know, I wanted to ask you to 
come down to us for a few day; but when I looked for you at 
Mrs. Needham's the other night, you had vanished; and since, 
I have been so much taken up— as I will explain later— that I 
have been quite unable to write. I hope you will manage to 
pay us a visit next week. The air here is most reviving." 

44 You are too good. Miss Bradley," returned Katherine, 
touched by her kind tone. 44 If Mrs. Needham can spare me, 
1, shall of course be delighted to come;" and she resolved 
mentally that she should not be spared. 

“ Major Urquhart," continued Miss Bradley, turning to a 
very tall, thin, soldierly looking man who might once have 
been fair, but was now burned to brick-dust hue, with long 
tawny mustache, and thick overhanging eyebrows of the same 
color, 44 pray take Miss Liddell round the grounds, and show 
her my favorite fernery." 

Major Urquhart bowed low and presented his arm. 

44 I see," continued Angela, 44 that Mrs. Needham is already 
absorbed by a dozen dear friends." 

44 You have not been here before," said Major Urquhart, in 
a deep, hollow voice. 

46 Never." 

44 Charming place; immensely improved since I went to 
India, five years ago." 

44 Miss Bradley has great taste/' remarked Katherine. 

44 Wonderful! astonishing! She has made all this fernery 
since I was here last." Then there was a long pause, and a 
few more sentences expressive of admiration were exchanged, 
and somehow Katherine began to feel that her companion was 
rather bored and preoccupied; so she turned her steps toward 
the house, intending to release him. 

At the further side of the fernery, in a pretty path between 
green banks, they suddenly met Errington face to face. 

44 Miss Bradley wants you, Urquhart," he said, as soon as 
they had exchanged salutations. 44 You may leave Miss Lid- 
dell in my charge, if she will permit." Major Urquhart bowed 
himself off, and Errington continued: 44 You would not sus- 
pect that was a very distinguished officer." 

44 1 don't know. He seems very silent and inanimate." 

44 Well, I assure you he is a very flue fellow, and did great 
deeds in the Mutiny. But come; the lawn is looking quite 
picturesque in the sunshine, with the groups of people scat- 
tered about. It would be perfect were it sleeping in the tran- 
quil silence of a restful Sabbath day." 

12 


354 


A CROOKED PATH. 


44 Are you not something of a hermit in your tastes?” asked 
Katherine, looking up to him with one of her sunny smiles. . 

4 4 By no means. I like the society of my fellow-men; but 1 
like a spell of solitude every now and then, as a rest and re- 
freshment on the duuy road of life.” 

4 4 1 begin to think peace the greatest boon Heaven can be- 
stow. ” 

44 Yes; after your late vicissitudes it must seem to you the 
greatest good. Let us sit down under this cedar. There is a 
pretty peep across the common to the blue distance. We 
might be a hundred miles from London, everything is so 
calm. ” 

They sat silent for a tew moments, a sense of peace and 
safety stealing over Katherine’s heart. 

Suddenly Errington turned to her and said: 44 Our friend 
I)e Burgh can scaicely know himself in his new condition.” 

44 He seems remarkably at home, however. I hope he will 
distinguish himself as an enlightened aud benevolent legis- 
lator.” 

44 He must be a good deal changed if he does. You have 
seen a good deal of him, I believe, since he returned to Lon- 
don?” 

44 1 have seen him several times. He seems to get on with 
Mrs. Needham.” 

44 With Mrs. Needham?” repeated Errington, in a slightly 
mocking tone, and elevating his eyebrows in # a way that made 
Katherine blush for her uncandid remark. 

44 Well, Mrs. Needham seems to have taken immensely to 
him.” 

44 1 can understand that. De Burgh has wherewithal now 
to recommend him to most party-giving dowagers.” 

44 That speech is not like you, Mr. Errington. You know 
my dear good chief is utterly uninfluenced by worldly consid- 
erations. Lord De Burgh has been very good and helpful to 
me with the boys, I assure you,” said Katherine, feeling that 
she changed color under Errington ’s watchful eyes. 

44 Yes; I have no doubt he could be boundlessly kind where 
he wishes to please; more, I think he is a generous fellow; 
but — I am going to be ill-natured,” he said, with a slight 
change of tone — 44 as you have allowed me the privilege of a 
friend, I must beg you to reflect that De Burgh is a man of 
imperious temper, given to somewhat reckless seeking of what 
he desires, and not too steady in his attachments. Though in 
every sense a man of honor, and by no means without heart, 
yet I fear as a companion he would be disturbing, if not — ” 


A CROOKED PATH. 


355 


44 Why do you warn me?” cried Katherine, growing some- 
what pale, 44 and what has poor Lord De Burgh done to earn 
your disapprobation?” 

•“ I know I am somewhat Quixotic and unguarded in speaking 
thus to you, but it would be affectation to say I did not per- 
ceive Be Burgh’s very natural motive. There is much about 
him that is attractive to women, apart from his exceptional 
fortune and position; but I doubt if he could make a woman 
like you happy, if the ease and luxury he could bestow ever 
prove a temptation, 1 do not think that anything, except sin- 
cere affection, would enable you to surmount the difficulty of 
dealing with a character like his.” 

While Errington spoke with quiet but impressive earnest- 
ness, a perverse spirit entered into Katherine Liddell. Here 
was this man, sailing triumphantly on the crest of good-fort- 
une, about to ally himself to a woman — good, certainly, and 
suited to him — but also rich enough to set him above all care 
and money troubles, urging counsels of perfection on her . 
Why was she to be advised to reject a man who certainly loved 
her, by one who only felt a temperate and condescending 
friendship for her? How could he judge what amount of in- 
fluence De Burgh’s affection for herself might give her? 

44 1 ought to feel deeply grateful to you for overstepping the 
limits of conventionality in order to give me what is no doubt 
sound advice.” 

44 Do you mean that as a rebuke?” asked Errington, lean- 
ing a little forward to look into her eyes. 44 Do you not think 
that a friendship founded, as ours is, on most exceptional and 
unconventional circumstances, gives me a sort of right to 
speak of matters which may prove of the last importance to 
you? You can not realize how deeply interested I am in your 
welfare — how ardently I desire your happiness.” The sin- 
cerity of his tone thrilled Katherine with pain and pleasure. 
It was delightful to hear him speak thus, yet it would be bet- 
ter for her never to hear his voice again. 

44 1 dare say I am petulant,” she said, looking down, 44 and 
you are generally right; but don’t you think in this case you 
are looking too far ahead, and attributing motives tc Lord De 
Burgh of which he may be quite innocent?” 

* 44 Of that you are the best judge,” returned Errington, 
coldly, and silence fell upon them — a silence which Katherine 
felt to be so awkward that she rose, saying, 44 1 must find Mrs. 
Needham; she will wonder where I am.” And Errington 
making no objection, they strolled slowly toward the front of 


356 


A CROOKED PATH. 


the house, where most of the visitors were standing or sitting 
about. 

There they soon discovered Mrs. Needham in lively con- 
versation with Lord De Burgh, who was a good deal observed 
by those present, as his name and position were now well- 
known to almost all of Mrs. Needham’s set. He turned 
quickly to greet Katherine, and spoke not too cordially to Er- 
rington, who, after some talk with Mrs. Needham, quietly 
withdrew, and kept rather closely to Angela’s side. 

The rest of the afternoon was spoiled for Katherine by a 
sense of irritation with Lord De Burgh, who scarcely left her, 
thereby making her so conspicuous that she could hardly re- 
frain from telling him. 

44 What is the matter with you?” asked De Burgh, as they 
walked together behind Mrs. Needham to the gate, where the 
carriage awaited them. 44 Do you know you have hardly said 
a civil word to me? What have I done?” 

44 You are mistaken. I never meant to be uncivil. 1 am 
only tired, and 1 have rather a headache..” 

44 You often have headaches. Are you sure the ache is in 
your head V ’ 

44 No, I am not,” said Katherine, frankly. 44 Don't you 
know what it is to be out of sorts?” 

44 Don’t I, though! If that’s what ails you, I can under- 
stand you well enough. I wish you would let me prescribe for 
you — a nice long wandering through Switzerland, over some of 
the old passes into Italy (they are more delicious than ever 
now they are deserted), and then a winter in Rome.” 

44 Thank you,” returned Katherine, laughing. 44 Perhaps 
you might also recommend horse exercise on an Arab steed.” 

44 Yes, I should. You would look stunning in a habit.” 

44 Dreams, idle dreams, Lord De Burgh. I shall be all right 
to-morrow.” 

44 1 intend to come and see if you are,” he returned, signifi- 
cantly. 

44 To-morrow I shall be out all the afternoon,” said Kath- 
erine, quickly. 

44 Some other day, then,” he replied, with resolution. 

44 Good-morning, Lord De Burgh; or, rather, good-evening, 
for it is seven o’clock,” said Mrs. Needham. 44 Charmipg 
place, isn’t it?” 

44 Very nice, indeed. I suppose I have the freedom of the 
house now, through your favor?” 

44 Certainly. Good-bye. Come and see us soon.” 

44 May I?” he whispered, as he handed Katherine into the 


A CROOKED PATH. 


357 


carriage. She smiled and shook her head, looking so sweet 
and arch that De Burgh could not help pressing her hand hard 
as he muttered something of which she could only catch the 
word “ mischief.” 

“ Well,” said Mrs. Needham, when they had left the villa 
behind, and she had succeeded in wrapping a woolen scarf 
closely round her throat, for the evening had grown chill, “ I 
knew I was right all along, and now old Bradley himself has 
as good as told me that Angela is engaged to Errington.” 

“Indeed!” said the lady who shared their conveyance. 
“ What did he say?” 

“ He was sitting with me on the lawn, and Miss Bradley 
went past between Errington and that tall, military-looking 
man who did not seem to know any one. So I just remarked, 
4 What a distinguished sort of person Mr. Errington is;' and 
Bradley, looking after him in an exulting sort of way, said: 

4 Distinguished! 1 believe you. That man, ma'am (you 
know his style), will be in the front rank before long. I 
recognized his power from the first, and, what's more, so did 
Angela. I am going to give a proof of my confidence in him 
that will astonish every one. You'll hear of it in a week or 
two.' Now, what can that mean but that he is going to 
trust his daughter to him. You see, Errington is like a son 
of the house. 1 am heartily glad, for I have reason to know 
that he has been greatly attached to her a considerable time, 
and they are admirably suited.” 

4 4 Well, he is a very lucky fellow. Independent of all the 
money Bradley has made, this new magazine of his is a splen- 
did property.” 

And Katherine, listening in silence, told herself that one 
chapter of her life was closed forever. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

“ill met.” 

A note from Mrs. Ormonde next morning informed Kath- 
erine that she had returned to Castleford and recorded her 
deep regret that she could not call before leaving town, but 
that time was too snort, although they had delayed their de- 
parture for a couple of days. “ We met Lord De Burgh at 
Lady Mary Vincent's. You can't think what a fuss she made 
about him. I remember when she would not let him inside 
her doors. He is odder and more abrupt than ever. He told 
me he was going to meet you at Mrs. Needham's, and said 
hers was the only house in London worth going to. I suspect 


358 


A CROOKED PATH. 


there is great fortune in store for you, Katie, and no friend 
will rejoice at it more warmly than I shall. Do write and tell 
me all about everything; it is frightfully dull down here. 
Your ever-attached sister, Ada.” 

Bevoud a passing sensation of annoyance that De Burgh 
should make a display of his acquaintance with Mrs. Needham 
and herself, this epistle made no impression on Katherine, 
who was glad to have an unusual amount of work for Mrs. 
Needham, who had started, or, rather, promised her assist- 
ance in starting, a new scheme for extracting wax-candle out 
of peat. Respecting this she was immensely sanguine. For 
the first time in her life she was to be properly remunerated 
for her trouble, and in a year or two would make her fortune. 

The clay flew past with welcome rapidity, and in the evening 
Katherine was swept off to a 46 first-night representation,” 
which, though by no means first-rate, helped her to vanquish 
vain regrets. 

44 You’ll make a dozen copies of those notes, please, dear,” 
said Mrs. Needham, as she stood dressed to go out after an 
early luncheon the following day, 44 and I’ll sign them when I 
come in. Then there is the notice of the play for my 4 Duller- 
town letter,’ and be sure you send those extracts from the 
4 Weekly Review ’ to Angela Bradley. You know all the rest. 
If I am not home by seven, don’t wait dinner for me.” 

Katherine had scarcely settled to her task when the servant 
entered to say that Lord De Burgh would be glad to speak to 
her, as he had a message from Mrs. Needham. 

44 How strange!” murmured Katherine, adding, aloud, 
44 Then show him in.” 

44 1 have just met Mrs. Needham, and she has told me to 
give you this,” said De Burgh, handing a card to Katherine 
as soon as she had shaken hands with him. It was one of her 
own cards, and on the back was scribbled, 44 Don’t mind the 
notes. ” 

44 How extraordinary!” cried Katherine. 44 1 thought they 
were of the last importance. What did they say to you? You 
must have met her almost directly after she went out.” 

44 1 think I did. I was coming through the narrow part of 
Kensington, and was stopped by a block. Just caught sight 
of your chief, and jumped out pf my cab to have a word with 
her. She told me I should find you, and gave me that.” 

Katherine looked perplexedly at the card while De Burgh 
went on: 44 So this is the tremendous laboratory where Mrs. 
Needham forges her husband’s thunder-bolts,” looking around 
with some curiosity. 


A CROOKED PATH. 359 

“ And I forge my thunder-bolts,” said Katherine, laugh- 
ing. 

“ Thunder-bolts!” echoed De Burgh, looking keenly at her. 
“No! where you launch the lightning that either withers or 
kindles life-giving flames.” 

“ Really, Lord De Burgh, you are positively poetical! I 
never dreamed of your developing this faculty when you tried 
to teach me how to drive at Castleford.” 

“ No, it did not exist then. Now I want to tell you of the 
cause of its growth. You have silenced me often enough. 
To-day I will speak — Katherine — ” 

“ If you please, Tn, there’s twopence to pay,” said the de- 
mure Ford, advancing with a letter. 

Half amused and partly relieved by the interruption, Kath- 
erine sought for and produced the requisite coin, and then took 
the letter with a look of some anxiety. “ It is my own writ- 
ing,” she said. “ It is one of the envelopes I left with Cis.” 
Opening it and glancing at the contents, her color rose and her 
bosom heaved. 

“ Oh, do look at this!” she cried; and De Burgh rose and 
read over her shoulder: 

“ Dear Aujsitie, — I hope you are quite well. We have 
had a dreadful row! Charlie could not say his lesson, so Mr. 
Sells roared at him like a bull. Charlie got into one of his 
fits, you know, and then he burst out laughing. Mr. Sells 
went into such a rage! lie laid hold of him and whipped him 
all over, and 1 ran to break the cane. ’ I hit his nose with my 
head so hard that the blood came. I was glad to see the blood. 
Then they locked us both up. I have no stamp. Do come 
and take us away — do, do, do! 

“ Your loving Cis. 

“ P.S. — If you do not come we’ll run away to the gypsies 
on the common.” 

“ The scoundrel! I’ll go and thrash him within an inch of 
his life!” cried De Burgh, when they had finished this epistle. 

“ I should like to do it myself!” said Katherine, in a low, 
fierce tone, starting up and crushing the letter in an angry 
grip. 

“By Jove! I wish you could. I fancy you’d punish him 
pretty severely,” returned De Burgh, admiringly. “ I must 
go — go at once,” continued Katherine, her lips trembling, 
her lustrous eyes filling. “ Think of the tender, fragile, sweet 
boy, who is an angel in nature, beaten by a dog like that! 
Lord De Burgh, 1 must leave you/ I must go at once.” 


360 


A CROOKED PATH. 


44 Yes, of course,” said De Burgh, standing between her and 
the door; 44 but not alone. May I come with you?” 

Katherine paused and put her hand to her head. 44 No, I 
think you had better not. ” 

44 1 will do whatever you like. Take Miss Payne with you 
— she is a shrewd woman — and consult with her what you had 
better do. Shall you remove the boys?” 

She paused again before replying, looking rapidly, despair- 
ingly round. These changes had cost her a good deal, and she 
had not much to go on with, unless she broke into the deposit 
which she hoped to preserve intact for a long time to come. 

44 I do not know where to put them,” she said; and there 
was a sound of tears in her voice. 

44 You can do whatever you choose,” said De Burgh, em- 
phatically; 44 only, while you are driving down to this con- 
founded place make up your mind what to do. I wish you 
would feel yourself free to do anything or pay anything. 
While you are dressing I will go round to Miss Payne and 
bring her back with me. Then you must take my carriage; it 
will save time. And don’t exaggerate the effects of this whip- 
ping; a few impatient cuts with a cane over his jacket could 
not have hurt him much.” 

44 Hurt him — no! Crush and terrify him — yes! It will be 
months before he can forget it. And I told the head-master 
of Charlie’s peculiarly nervous temperament. This man seems 
to be an assistant. I will take your advice, Lord De Burgh, 
and make some plan with Miss Payne. I hope she will be 
able to come.” 

44 She must! she shall!” cried De Burgh, impetuously. 44 I 
shall return in half an hour;” and he hastily left the room. 

By the time Katherine had put on her out-door dress and 
written an explanatory line to Mrs. Needham, De Burgh had 
returned with Miss Payne. 

44 You must tell me all about it as we go along,” said that 
lady, as Katherine took her place bSside her; 64 and you must 
do nothing rash.” 

44 Oh, no; if I can only prevent a recurrence of such a scene! 
I am most grateful to you for your kind help. Lord De Burgh. 
I will let you know, how things are settled.” 

44 Thank you! I shall be glad of a line; but I shall call to- 
morrow to hear a full and true account. Now, what’s the 
name of the place?” 

44 Birch Grove, Wandsworth Common.” 

De Burgh gave the necessary directions, and the big black 
horse tossed his head and dashed off at a swift trot. 


A CROOKED PATH. 361 

Deep was the discussion which ensued, and which ended in 
deciding that they would be guided by circumstances. 

The arrival of Miss Liddell was evidently most unexpected. 
She and her companion were shown into the guest-parlor, 
where, after awhile, Mr. Lockwood, the principal, made his 
appearance. 

44 This is an unexpected pleasure. Miss Liddell. May 1 ask 
the reason of your visit ?" 

Whereupon Katherine spoke more temperately than Miss 
Payne expected, describing CeciPs letter and reminding him 
that she had fully explained Charlie's nervous weakness, and 
stating that if she could not be assured such treatment should 
not occur again she must remove the boy. 

The 44 dominie," apparently touched by her tone, answered 
with equal frankness. He had been called away by unavoida- 
ble business at the beginning of the term, and had forgotten 
to warn his assistant respecting Liddell minor. He regretted 
the incident; indeed, he had intended to inform Miss Liddell 
of the unfortunate occurrence, but extreme occupation must 
plead his excuse. Miss Liddell might be sure that it should 
never happen again. Indeed, her nephews were very prom- 
ising boys — the youngest a little young for his school; but it 
was all the better for him to be accustomed to a higher stand- 
ard. He hoped, now that this unpleasantness was over, all 
would go on well. 

44 1 hope so, Mr. Lockwood," returned Katherine; “but 
should my nephew be again punished for what he can not help, 
I shall immediately remove him and his brother." 

44 So I understand, madame," said the school-master, who 
was visibly much annoyed by the whole affair. 44 1 presume 
you would like to see the boys." 

44 Yes, certainly. Will you be so good as to grant them a 
half holiday?" 

This was agreed to, and in a few minutes Cis and Charlie 
were hanging round their aunt. 

44 Oh, auntie dear, have you come to take us away?" 

44 No, dears; but I have talked to Mr. Lockwood." And 
she explained the fact that Mr. Sells did not know that 
Charlie's laughter was involuntary. The poor little fellow did 
not complain of his aunt's decision. He first laid his head on 
her shoulder and cried silently. This was worse than any 
other line of conduct. Cis declared his intention of running 
away forthwith. However, when matters were laid before 
him, and the joys of a half holiday set forth, he consented to 
try 44 Old Sells " a little longer, and then Katherine took 


362 


A CROOKED PATH. 


them back to Wilton Street, where they spent a quiet, happy 
afternoon with their aunt, to whom they poured out their 
hearts, and were finally taken back by the polite Franqois. 

“ You are- the kindest of much-enduring employers,” said 
Katherine, gratefully, when she joined Mrs. Needham at din- 
ner. 44 I earnestly hope my sudden desertion has not incon- 
venienced you? Now I am ready to Work far into the night, 
to make up for lost time.” 

44 Oh, you need not do that. I changed my plans after I 
met Lord De Burgh, and came home to write here. Now tell 
me all about those poor dears and that brute of a master.” 

The excitement of this expedition over, Katherine felt rather 
depressed and nervous next morning. She dreaded Lord De 
Burgh's visit, yet did not absolutely wish to avoid it. It was 
due to him that the sort of probation which he had voluntarily 
instituted should come to an end. She could not allow her- 
self to be made conspicuous by the constant attentions of a man 
who was known to be about the best match in London. Yet 
she was genuinely sorry to lose him as a friend. He had been 
so kind and thoughtful about the boys, too. Well, she would 
be frank and sympathetic, and soften her refusal as much as 
possible. How she wished it was over! She * >und writing an 
impossible task, and Mrs. Needham, noticing her restlessness, 
observed, with a- grave smile: 44 I expect you will have some 
very good news for me this afternoon. I am going out to 
luncheon.” 

44 No, dear Mrs. Needham, Ido not think I shall,” returned 
Katherine. 46 1 fear — ” 

44 Lord De Burgh is in the drawing-room,” said the parlor- 
maid. 

44 Go, Katherine,” cried Mrs. Needham, 44 and don't tell me 
there is any doubt about your having good r;ew^ You de- 
serve bread and water for the rest of your natural life if you 
don't take the goods the gods provide.” Katherine hesitated, 
smiled miserably, and left the room. 

44 Well, and how did you find the poor little chap?” were 
De Burgh's first words. 44 There's nothing wrong, I hope? 
You look as white as a ghost, and your hand is quite cold,” 
placing his left upon it as it lay in his grasp. 44 The boys are 
well?” 

44 Yes, quite well, and reconciled, with some difficulty, to 
remain where they are,” she returned, disengaging herself, and 
sinking rather than sitting down into a corner of the sofa 
nearest her. 


A CROOKED PATH. 


363 


“ Then what has upset you? I suppose,” softening his 
voice, “ the whole thing was too much for you.” 

“ I dare say I excited myself more than I need have done; 
but 1 think my little Charlie is safe for the future.” 

44 Do you know that it makes me half mad to see that look 
of distress in your sweet eyes — to see the color fading out of 
your cheeks! Katherine, I can’t hold my tongue any longer. 
I thought I was far gone when I used to count the days be- 
tween my visits to Sandbourne. 1 am a good deal worse, now 
that you have let me be a sort of chum. Life without you is 
something 1 don’t care to face — I don’t, indeed. Why don’t 
you make up your mind to take me for better, for worse? 
I’ll try and be all better. Just think how happy we might 
be! Those boys should have the best training money or care 
could get, and, Katherine, I’m not a bad fellow. You know 
me better now, and you must feel that 1 should never be a 
bad fellow to you.” 

u You are a very good fellow. Lord De Burgh. That I 
quite believe; but (it pains me so much to say it) I really do 
not love you as I ought, and unless I do love I dare not 
marry.” 

44 Why not? — that is, if you don’t love some other fellow. 
Will you tell me if any man stands in niv way?” 

44 No, indeed, Lord De Burgh. Who could 1 love?” 

44 That is impossible to say. However, your word is enough. 
If your heart is free, why not let me try to win it? And the 
opportunities afforded by matrimony are endless. You are 
the sort of woman who would be faithful to whatever you un- 
dertook, and when you saw me day by day living for you, and 
you only, you’d grow to love me. Just think of the boys run- 
ning wild at Burghley in the holidays, and, by Heaven! my 
head reels at the idea of such a heaven of happiness!” 

66 1 am a wretch, 1 know,” said Katherine, the tears in her 
eyes, her voice breaking; 44 but 1 know myself. I am a very 
lawless individual, and you had better not urge me.” 

4 fc What is your objection tome? I haven’t been a saint; 
but 1 have never done anything I am ashamed of. Why do 
you shrink from life with me? Come, cast your doubts to the 
winds. Give me your sweet self. There is no one to love 
you as I do; and 1 swear your life shall be a summer holiday!” 

His words struck her with sudden conviction. I't was true 
there was no one to love her as he did. And what a tower of 
refuge he would be to the boys! Why should she not think of 
him? He had been very true to her. Why should she not 
drive out the haunting image of the man who did not love 


364 


A CROOKED PATH. 


her by the living presence of the man who did? But if she 
accepted him she must confess her crime. She could not keep 
such an act hidden from the man who was ready to give his 
life to her. How awful this would be, and he might reject 
her! Then her fate would be decided for her. 

Lord De Burgh saw that she hesitated, and pressed her 
eagerly for a decision. “ You deserve so much gratitude for 
your kindness, your faithfulness, that — oh, do let me think!” 
covering up her face with her hands. “ It is such a tremen- 
dous matter to decide!” 

“ Yes, of course you shall think as much as ever you like!” 
cried De Burgh, rapturously, telling himself that “ She who 
deliberates is lost.” “Take your own tjme, only don't say 
‘ no /' ” ferociously. “ Reflect on the immense happiness you 
can bestow, the good you can do. Why do you shiver, my 
darling? If you wish it, Til go now, this moment, and I'll 
not show my face till — till the day after to-morrow if you 
like. ' 9 

“ The day after to-morrow? That is but a short space to 
decide so momentous a question.” 

“ If you can't make up your mind in twenty-four hours, 
neither can you in two hundred and forty. I don't want to 
hurry you, but you must have some consideration for me. 
Imagine my state of mind. Why, I'll be on the rack till we 
meet again. I fancy a conscientious woman is about the 
crudest creature that walks. However, I'll stick to my 
promise. I will not intrude on you till the day after to-mor- 
row. Then I will come at eleven o'clock for your answer, 
and, Katherine, my love, my life, it must be 4 yes.' ” 

He took and kissed her hand more than once, then he went 
swiftly away. 

The hours which succeeded were painfully agitated. Kath- 
erine felt that De Burgh had every right to consider himself 
virtually accepted. She liked him; yes, certainly, she liked 
him, and might have loved him but for her irresistible, un- 
reasonable, unmaidenly attachment to Errington. If she made 
up her mind to marry him, that would fill her heart and re- 
lieve it from the duil aching which had strained it so long. 
Once a wife, she would never give a thought save to her own 
husband. But before she reached the profound, nay, death- 
like peace of such a position, she must tell her story to De 
Burgh; and how would he take it? With all his ruggedness 
he had a keen and delicate sense of honor.' Still, she felt that 
his passion for her would overcome all obstacles for the time, 
but how would it be afterward, when they had settled down to 


A> CROOKED PATH. 


365 


the routine of every-day life? It would be a tremendous ex- 
periment, bat she coald not let him enter on that, close union 
in ignorance of the blot on her escutcheon. And then the 
door would be closed on the earlier half of her life, which had 
been so bitter-sweet. How little peace she had known since 
her mother’s death! How heavenly sweet her life had been 
when she knew no deeper care than to shield that dear mother 
from anxiety or trouble! ^And now there was no one belong- 
ing to her on whose wisdom and strength she had a right to 
rely. Perhaps, after all, it might be better to accept De 
Burgh, and end her uncertainties. Though by no means given 
to weeping, Katherine could not recover composure until after 
the relief of a copious flood of tears. 

“ Well, dear!’’ cried Mrs. Needham, when they were left 
together after dinner, “ I am just bursting with curiosity. 
What news have you for me? and what have you been doing 
with yourself? You look ghastly, and I positively believe }’ou 
have been crying. What have you done? I can’t believe that 
you have refused Lord De Burgh! You couldn’t be such a 
mad woman! Why, you might lead — ” 

“ How do you know he gave me an opportunity?” inter- 
rupted Katherine, with a faint smile. 

“ Don’t talk like that, dear,” said Mrs. Needham, severely. 
“ What would bring Lord De Burgh here day after day, but 
trying to win you? I have been waiting for what I knew was 
inevitable. Now, Katherine, tell me, have you rejected him?” 

“ No, Mrs. Needham. 1 have asked time to reflect.” 

“ Oh, that is all right ” — in a tone of satisfaction — “ and 
only means a turn of the rack while you can handle the screws. 
Of course you’ll accept him when he comes again. After all, 
though there are plenty of unhappy marriages, there is no 
joy so delightful as reciprocal affection. I am sure I never 
saw a creature so glorified by love as Angela Bradley. She 
told me, at Mrs. Cochran’s, she had a wonderful piece of news 
for me; and when I said perhaps 1 knew it, she beamed all 
over and squeezed my-hand as she whispered, • Perhaps you 
do.’ I saw her driving Errington in her pony-carriage after- 
ward, and meeting old Captain Everard just then; he nodded 
after them and said: 4 That’s an excellent arrangement. The 
wedding, I hear, is fixed for the twenty-ninth of next month.’ 
Now, I don’t quite believe that . Angela would have certainly 
told me, but I am sure it will come off soon.” 

“ I am sure they will make a very happy couple, and I 
really believe that I shall follow their example.” 

“ Quite right. The double event will make a sensation. 


366 


A CROOKED PATH. 


My dear child, to see you happily and splendidly settled will 
be the greatest joy I have known for years; and what will 
Colonel Ormonde say?” 

“ I neither know nor care; and Mrs. Needham, if you don't 
mind, I will go to bed. I have such a headache.” 

The fateful morning found Katherine resolved and com- 
posed. She would tell De Burgh everything; and if her revela- 
tion did not frighten him away, she would try to make him 
happy and to be happy herself. It would be painful to tell 
him; but oh! nothing compared to the agony of humiliation it 
cost her to prostrate herself morally before Errington. 

Still, she would be glad when the confession was over. 
Afterward, feeling her destiny decided, she would be calmer 
and more resigned. Besigned? What a term to apply to her 
acceptance of an honest man's hearty affection! For whatever 
De Burgh's life may have been, he had said he had done noth- 
ing he was ashamed of. By some unconscious impulse she 
dressed herself in black, and went down to the drawing-room 
with her knitting, that she might be ready to receive the man 
who, an hour later, might be her affianced husband. 

On the stair she met Ford, who informed her that Miss 
Trant was waiting for her. Katherine felt glad of any inter- 
ruption to her thoughts, especially as she knew that the arrival 
of a visitor would be the signal for Rachel’s departure. 

“1 am so glad to see you!” exclaimed Katherine; “but 
how is it you have escaped so early?” 

“ 1 have been to the city to buy goods, and came round here 
to have a peep at you, for Miss Payne told me yesterday of your 
trouble about the boys.” 

“ How early you are! Why, it is scarcely eleven. Yes, 
sit down for a moment; yes, 1 was dreadfully angry and up- 
set;” and Katherine proceeded to describe Cecil's letter and 
her visit to the school. 

“ I wish you could take them away,” said Rachel, thought- 
fully. 

“ Perhaps, later on, I may be able, and I do not think there 
is any chance that poor Charlie will be punished again. He is 
never really naughty. But he has had a great shock.” 

“ So have you, I imagine, to judge from your looks.” 

“ Do 1 look shocked? And how have you been? It is so 
long since I was able to go and see } r ou.” 

“ 1 have been and am very well, very busy, and really suc- 
ceeding. I have opened a banking account, and feel very 
proud of my check-book. Do you know that Mr. Newton has 


A CROOKED PATH. 


367 


advanced me two hundred pounds? Just nowit is worth a 
thousand. It lifts me over the waiting-time. I have sent in 
my quarter’s accounts, and in a month the payments will be- 
gin to come in. I’ll make a good business yet.” 

“ I believe you will.” 

‘'What a pretty room!” said Rachel, looking around. 

How nice it is to know you are comfortable! By the time 
you are tired of your secretaryship I hope to have a nice little 
sum laid by for you/’ 

“ What a wonderful woman of business you are, Rachel!” 
cried Katherine, admiringly. 

“ I ought to be. It is the only thing left to me, and I am 
thankful to say I get more and more — ” She stopped, for the 
door opened, and “ Lord De Burgh ” was announced. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

REPULSION. 

Rachel started from her seat and stood facing the door; 
her cheek flushed crimson, then grew deadly white, her lips 
parted as if she breathed with difficulty. 

De Burgh, the moment his eyes fell on her, stopped as if 
Suddenly arrested by an invisible hand. His eyes expressed 
horror and surprise; his dark face grew darker. Rachel 
quickly recovered. “ 1 will call again,” she murmured, and 
passing him swiftly, noiselessly, left the room, closing the door 
behind her. 

Like a flash of lightning the meaning of this scene darted 
through Katherine’s brain. Clasping her hands with inter- 
laced fingers, she pressed them against her breast. “ Ah!” 
she exclaimed (there was infinite pain in that “ ah ”), “ then 
you are the man!” 

“ What do you mean?” asked De Burgh, in a sullen tone, 
his thick brows almost meeting in a frown. 

“ The man she loved and lived with,” returned Katherine. 
The words were low and clear. 

“I am,” he replied, defiantly. Then a dreadful silence 
fell upon them. Katherine dropped into a chair, and resting 
her elbows on the table, covered her face with her hands. 

“ My God!” exclaimed De Burgh, advancing a step nearer, 
“ how does she come here?” 

Katherine could not speak for a moment. At last, and still 
covering her eyes, and with a low, quick utterance as if over- 
whelmed, she said: “I have known her for some time. 1 
found her dying of despair. 1 was able to befriend her, to 


368 


A CROOKED PATH. 


win her back to life, to something like hope. She told me 
everything — except the name. We have ceased to speak of 
the past. I little knew — I could not have dreamed — I never 
suspected — ” her voice broke and she burst into tears, irre- 
sistible tears which she struggled vainly to repress. 

44 Why should you not suspect me?” exclaimed De Burgh, 
harshly. 44 Did you suppose me above or below other men?” 

44 Oh, poor, dear Bachel! what a flood of unspeakable bit- 
terness has overwhelmed her — to find you here!” 

De Burgh paced to and fro, bewildered, furious, not know- 
ing how to defend himself or what to say. 44 1 am the most 
unfortunate devil that ever breathed!” he exclaimed at last, 

E a using beside the table and resting one hand on it. 44 Look 
ere, Katherine, how can a girl like you — for in spite of your 
mature airs you are a mere girl — how can you judge the — the 
temptations and ways of a world of which you know noth- 
ing?” 

44 Temptations!” she murmured; 44 did Bachel ask you to 
take her to live with you?” 

44 No, of course not,” angrily. 44 She is rather a superior 
creature, I admit; but I deny that I ever deceived or deserted 
her. She was perfectly aware I never intended to marry her, 
and 1 was awfully put out when she disappeared. 1 did my 
best to find her. But the fact is, when she did not reappear, 
I not unnaturally supposed she had gone off with some other 
man.” 

Katherine looked up at him suddenly, with such tragic, 
horrified eyes that De Burgh was startled; then she slightly 
raised her hands with an expressive gesture, again covering 
her face. 

44 Yes, yes,” De Burgh went on, impatiently, 44 1 see you 
think me a brute for thinking her capable of such a thing; but 
how was I to know she was different from others? It is too 
eternally provoking that such an affair should come to your 
notice! You are quite unable to judge fairly;” and he re- 
sumed his agitated walk. 44 1 swear 1 am no worse than my 
neighbors. Ask any woman of the world! ask Mrs. Need- 
ham! they will tell you that 1 am not an unpardonable sinner. 
I will do anything on earth for Bachel that you think right. 
Just remember her position and mine. It was not as if — It 
is impossible to explain to you, but there was no reason, had 
she been a little sensible, why such an episode should have 
spoiled her life. Lots of women — ” he stopped, and with a 
muttered curse paused opposite her. 

44 And could you have been her companion so long without 


A CROOKED PATH. 


369 


perceiving the strength and pride and tenderness of the woman 
who gave up all, hoping to keep your love — the love you no 
doubt ardently expressed? Oh, if you could have seen her as 
she was when 1 found her!” 

“ How was I to know she was staking her gold against my 
counters?” returned De Burgh, obstinately, though a dark 
flush passed over his face at Katherine's words. 

“ Lord De Burgh, I did not think you could be so cruel!” 
cried Katherine, rising. “ 1 will not speak to you any longer. ” 

“ Cruel!” he exclaimed, placing himself between her and 
the door. “ How can I be just or generous when this most 
unfortunate encounter has put me in such a hopeless position? 
Katherine, will you let this miserable mistake of the past rob 
me of my best hopes? my most ardently cherished desires?” 

“It is but two or three years since you spoke in the same 
tone, possibly the same words, to Bachel! At least, knowing 
her as I do, 1 feel sure she would have yielded to no common 
amount of persuasion. She was mad, weak to a degree, to 
listen to you; but she was alone, and love is so sweet!” 

“It is!” cried De Burgh, passionately. “Why will you 
turn from love as true, as intense as ever was offered to wom- 
an, merely because I let myself fall into an error but too com- 
mon?” 

“ Is it not a mere accident of our respective positions that 
you happen to seek me as your wife ?” said Katherine, a 
slight curl on her lip: “ and how can I feel sure that in time 
you will not weary of me as you did of her V y 

“ The cases are utterly unlike! So long as the world lasts, 
men, and women too, will act as Bachel Tranfc and I did. Nat- 
ure is too strong for social laws and religious maxims.” 

“ And you said you had never done anything to be ashamed 
of!” she exclaimed, bitterly. 

“ Nor have 1,” said De Burgh, stoutly, “ were I tried by 
the standard of our world. How can you know? How can 
you judge?” 

“ I do not judge; I have no right to judge,” said Katherine, 
brokenly. “I only know that when I saw your eyes meet 
BacheTs I felt that a great gulf had suddenly opened between 
us, a gulf that can not be bridged. I do not understand, and 
can not judge, as you say, and I am sorry for you too; but if 
life is to be this miserable shuffling of chances, this jumble of 
injustice, I would rather die than live. No, Lord De Burgh, 
I will go!” 

“ Good God! Katherine, you are trembling; you can hard- 
ly stand. 1 am a brute to keep you, but I can not help clutch- 


370 


A CROOKED PATH. 


ing my only chance of happiness. You are an angel; dispose 
of me as you will; but in mercy give me some hope. Til 
wait; I’ll do anything.” 

44 Oh, no, no; it is impossible! I am so fond of her ! and 
you will find many to whom your past will be nothing; for me 
it is irrevocable. The world seems intolerable! Let me go!” 
and she burst into such bitter sobs that her whole frame shook. 

J must not keep you now, but I will not give you up. I 
will write. Oh, Katherine, you would not destroy me!” He 
seized and passionately kissed her hand, which she tore from 
him, and fled from the room. 

When Kachel Trant escaped from the presence of her dear- 
est friend and her ex-lover she could scarcely see or stand. 
Thankful not to meet any one, she hastily left the house, and, 
somewhat revived by the air, she made her way to a secluded 
part of Kensington Gardens. Here she found a seat, and, still 
palpitating with the shock she had sustained, strove to reduce 
the chaotic whirl of her thoughts to something like order. 

She divined by instinct why De Burgh was at Mrs. Need- 
ham’s. She knew — how, she could not tell — that he was 
seeking Katherine as eagerly as he had sought herself; but 
with what a different object! The sight of De Burgh was as 
the thrust of a poisoned dagger through the delicate veins and 
articulations of her moral system. To see the dark face and 
somber eyes she had loved so passionately — had! — still loved! — 
was almost physical agony. It was as if some beloved form 
had been brought back from another world, but animated by 
a spirit that knew her not, loved her not. regarded her not at 
all. Oh, the bitterness of such an estrangement, of this ex- 
pulsion from the paradise of warmth and tenderness, where 
she had been cherished for awhile — a heavenly place, which 
should know her no more! 4 4 1 brought it all upon myself,” 
was the sentence of her strong, stern sense. 44 Losing self- 
respect, what hold can any woman have upon her lover? Yet 
how many men are faithful even to death without the legal 
tie! I do not love him now; but how fondly, how intensely 1 
loved the man I thought he was. Oh, fool, fool, fool, to be- 
lieve that I could ever tighten my hold upon a man who had 
gained all he wished unconditionally. I have deserved all, 
all.” 

Yet she had no hatred against the real De Burgh; neither 
had she any angelic desire to forgive him, or do him good, or 
convert him. What he was now lie would ever be. He might 
even make a fairly good husband. The episode of his connec- 


A CROOKED PATH. 


371 


tion with herself would in no way interfere with Ms moral har- 
mony. But he was not worthy of Katherine. No unbreak- 
able tie would make him more constant, and, though his 
faithlessness could not touch her social position, he might 
crush her heart all the same. Rachel was far too human, too 
passionate not to shrink with unutterable pain from the idea 
of this man’s entrancing love being lavished on another. Yet 
her true, devoted affection for her benefactress remained un- 
touched. Katherine stood before everything. Rachel did not 
wish to injure De Burgh; her heart had simply grown stony, 
and she would not hesitate for a moment to save Katherine 
from trouble at any cost to him. What, then, should she do? 
Continue to withhold the name of the man of whom she had 
so often spoken, or let Katherine know the whole truth, and 
judge for herself? If she decided on the latter, it would break 
up her friendship with Katherine, and De Burgh would at- 
tribute her action to revenge. Should that deter her? No; so 
long as she was sure of herself, what were opinions to her? 
The one thing in life to which she clung now was Katherine’s 
affection and esteem. For her she would sacrifice much; but 
she would not flatter her into a fool’s paradise of trust and 
wedded love with De Burgh by concealing anything; neither 
would she counsel her against the desperate experiment should 
she be inclined to risk it. He might be a very different man 
to a wife. 

A certain amount of composure came to her with this deci- 
sion, though a second death seemed to have laid its icy hand 
upon her heart. She rose and made her way toward her own 
abode, determining to await a visit or some communication 
from Katherine before she touched the poisoned spot which lay 
between them. 

Rachel had scarcely reached the broad walk when she was 
accosted by a little girl, who ran toward her, calling loudly, 
46 Miss Trant! Miss Trant! don’t you know me?” She was 
a slight, willowy creature, with black eyes, profuse dark hair, 
and sallow complexion. Her dress was costly though simple, 
and she was followed at a more sober pace by a lady-like but 
foreign-looking girl, apparently her governess. 

44 Well, Miss Liddell, are you taking a morning walk?” 
asked Rachel, as the child took her hand. 

44 1 am going to see papa. I am to have dinner with him. 
He has a bad cold, and he sent for me.” 

44 Then you must cheer him up, and tell him what you have 
been learning. ” 

44 1 haven’t learned much yet. It is so tiresome.” 


372 


A CROOKED PATH. 


ce Come, Mademoiselle Marie, you mustn't tease Mees 
Trant," said the foreign-looking lady, whom Rachel recog- 
nized as one of the governesses who sometimes escorted George 
Liddell's daughter “ to be tried on." 

“ She does not tease me," returned Rachel, who had rather 
taken a fancy to the child. 

“ Won’t you come and see papa with me?" continued the 
little heiress. “I wish you would; and he will tell you to 
make me another pretty frock. I love pretty frocks." 

“ Not to-day. I must go home and make frocks for other 
people." 

“ Then I will bring him to see you. I will, I will. He 
does whatever 1 like. Good-bye," springing up to kiss her. 
“ I may come and see you soon." 

“ Whenever you like, my dear," said Rachel, feeling strange- 
ly comforted by the child’s warm kisses; and they parted, 
going in different directions, to meet again soon. 

Mrs. Needham had been sorely tried on that fatal day, when 
De Burgh had suddenly departed after a comparatively short 
interval, and Katherine had disappeared into the depths of 
her own room. 

She had anticipated entertaining the bridegroom-elect at 
luncheon, and had ordered lobster cream and an “ epigramme 
d’auneau a la Russe " as suitable delicacies. She expected 
confidential consultation and delightful plans. She had even 
speculated on so managing that “ the double event," Angela 
Bradley’s marriage with Errington and Catherine’s with Loid 
De Burgh, might come off on the same day, even in the same 
church. That would be a culmination of excitement. Now 
some mysterious blight had fallen on all her schemes. What 
had happened? What could they have quarreled about? Then 
when Katherine emerged from her refuge she was hopelessly 
mysterious. There was no penetrating the reserve in which 
she wrapped herself. 

“ There is no one in whom I should more readily confide 
than in you, dear Mrs. Needham; but a serious difference lias 
arisen between Lord De Burgh and myself, respecting which 
I can not speak to any one. I regret being obliged to keep it 
to myself, but I must." 

“ My dear, if you adopt that tone; I have nothing more to 
say; but it is horribly provoking and disappointing. I am 
quite sure people began to expect it — that you would marry 
Lord De Burgh, 1 mean. And what a position you have 
thrown away! You can’t expect a man like him to be a saint. 
There is no use in trying men by our standard. In short, it’s 


A CROOKED PATS. 


373 


not much matter what standard we have; we must always 
come down a step or two if we mean to make both ends meet. 
But, you see, when a man has money and right principles, he 
can atone for a lot.” 

Katherine gazed at her astonished. How was 'it that she 
had found the scent which led so near the real track? 

“ No money,” she said, gravely, “ could in any way affect 
the matters in dispute between Lord De Burgh and myself. 
So I will not speak any more on the subject. It has all been 
very painful, and the worst part of it is that I can not tell 
you.” 

66 Well, it must be bad/ 5 observed Mrs. Needham, in a 
complaining tone; “but I suppose I must just hold my 
tongue. 55 

So Katherine was left in comparative peace; but it was a 
hard passage to her. She could not shake off the sense of 
wrong and sorrow imposed on each other by two people, one 
of whom she liked, and the other she loved, the painful con- 
sciousness of being humiliated, which the revelation inflicted 
on her; the feeling that she was in some inexplicable way 
touched by the evil doing of those who were so near her. 

A slight cold, caught she knew not how, aggravated the 
fever induced by distress of mind, and next day Mrs. Need- 
ham thought her so unwell that she insisted on sending for the 
doctor, who condemned Katherine to her bed, a composing 
draught, and solitude. 

The doctor, however, could not forbid letters, and Kath- 
erine’s seclusion was much disturbed by a long, rambling, im- 
passioned epistle from De Burgh, in which, though he prom- 
ised not to intrude upon her at # present, he refused to give up 
all hope, as he could not believe that she would always main- 
tain her present exaggerated and unreasonable frame of mind 
— a letter that did him no good in Katherine’s estimation. 
Then she tried to resume her work; but Mrs. Needham, re- 
turning from one of 1 r “rapid acts 55 of inspection and 
negotiation in and out divers and sundry warehouses, dismissed 
her peremptorily to lie down on the sofa in the drawing-room 
—in reality to get her out of the way, as she was expecting a 
visit from Miss Payne, with whom she wanted a little private 
conversation. 

“Can you throw any light on this mysterious quarrel be- 
tween Katherine and Lord De Burgh? 55 she asked, abruptly, 
as soon as Miss Payne was seated in the study. 

“ Quarrel? Have they quarreled? I know nothing about 
it. When did they quarrel? 55 


374 


A CROOKED PATH. 


“ About three days ago. He came here to propose for her; 
I know he did. And they were talking together for, oh, bare- 
ly a quarter of an hour in the drawing-room, when I heard her 
fly upstairs, and he rushed away, slamming the door as if he 
would tak^ the front of the house out. Katherine has never 
been herself since. It is my firm belief she is strongly attached 
to him. What do you think?” 

“ I don’t know what to think. They were very good 
friends, but I do not think Katherine was in love with him. 
She is a curious girl. I am often tempted to fancy she has 
something on her mind. ” 

“ Nonsense, my dear Miss Payne! I never met a finer, 
truer nature than Katherine Liddell’s,” cried Mrs. Needham, 
an affectionate smile lighting up her handsome, kindly face. 
“ The worst of it is, I do not know whom to blame, and 
Katherine has put me on honor not to ask her.” 

44 1 can not help you,” said Miss Payne, and she fell into 
thoughtful silence, while Mrs. Needham watched her eagerly. 

“ I am going away for a few weeks,” resumed Miss Payne. 
“ I have let my house, and I shall go to Sandbourne. The 
weather seems settled, and it will be pleasant there. If you 
can spare her, 1 will ask Katherine to come with me. She 
liked the place, and perhaps in the intimacy of every-day life 
she may tell me what happened; but remember. I’ll not tell 
you unless she gives me leave.” 

“ No, no, of course not; but I am sure she would trust me 
as soon as any one.” 

fck Very likely. It will just depend upon who is near her 
when she is in a confidential mood.” 

“ Perhaps. I am sure it would do her good, and Sand- 
bourne is not far. If De Burgh wants to make it up, he could 
easily run down there.” 

“ Yes, he knows his way. I am not sure that he is the right 
man, though,” said Miss Payne, reflectively; “ he is too ready 
to ride rough-shod over every one and everything.” 

“ Do you think so? I must say I thought him a delightful 
person — so natural and good-natured.” 

“ Well, let us go and see Katherine. I am anxious to take 
her away with me.” 

Katherine was most willing to accept Miss Payne’s proposi- 
tion. She was soothed and gratified by the thoughtful kind- 
ness shown her by both her friends, and anxious to refresh her 
mind and recruit her strength before taking up her life again. 

“ You are so good to think of taking me with you,” she 


A CROOKED PATH. 375 

cried, when Miss Payne ceased speaking. “ I should like 
greatly to go if Mrs. Needham can spare me.” 

“ Of course I can. You will come back a better secretary 
than ever/* exclaimed that lady, cheerfully. “ 1 will try to 
run down and see you some Saturday. It is rather a new 
place, this Sandbourne, isn’t it?** 

“ Yes, it is not crowded yet. When do you go down 
there?** 

‘‘-On Saturday afternoon,** returned Miss Payne. “ I have 
taken rooms at Marine Cottage; you know it is at the end of 
the Parade, near our old house.** 

“ Yes, quite well. It is a nice little place.** 

“ I will write to secure another bedroom, and let us meet at 
the station on Saturday. I go by the 2:50 train.** A few 
more preliminaries, and the affair was settled. 

Previous to leaving town, however, Katherine felt she must 
see Rachel Trant, though she half dreaded meeting her. 

It must have been an awful blow to meet De Burgh as she 
did. Would she divine what brought him there? Katherine 
felt she had been cold and remiss in having kept silence to- 
ward her friend so long. And when Miss Payne left she 
walked with her across the park to Rachel’s abode, in spite of 
Mrs. Needham’s assurances that it would be too much for her 
and would retard the recovery of her nervous forces, etc., etc. 
Katherine was not kept long waiting in the neat little back 
parlor, which was Miss Trant’s private room. Rachel came 
to her, looking very white, while she breathed quickly; she 
paused just within the door in a hesitating, uncertain way, 
which seemed to Katherine very pathetic. 

“ Ah, Rachel,” she cried, her soft brown eyes suffused with 
tears, as she tenderly kissed her brow. “I know everything! 
and — I will never see him again!” 

“He is not all bad,” said Rachel, in a low tone, as she 
clasped Katherine’s hand in both her own. 

“ No, 1 am sure he is not; but he has passed out of our 
lives. Let us speak of him no more.” 

“ I should be glad not to do so; but he has written me a 
letter I should like you to see. He seems grieved for the past, 
and makes munificent offers.” 

“ I would rather not see it, Rachel; 1 want to forget. Did 
you reply?” 

“I did, very gravely, very shortly. I told him I' wanted 
nothing; that the best friend I ever had had put me in the 
w r ay, perhaps, to make a fortune — and — and, dearest Miss 
Liddell, if you care for — ** 


376 


A CROOKED PATH. 


“ But I do not! 1 did not!” interrupted Katherine. “ Oh, 1 
1 thank God I do not. How could I have borne what has come 
to my knowledge if 1 did? Now let the past bury its dead.” 

“Is it not amazing that we should be so strangely linked 
together?” murmured Rachel. 

Katherine made no reply. After a short silence, as if they 
stood by a still open grave, Katherine began to speak of her 
intended visit to Miss Payne; and before they parted, though 
both were hushed and grave, they had glided into their usual 
confidential, affectionate tone. Business, however, was not 
mentioned. 

“ I wish you could see your cousin’s little daughter,” said 
Rachel, rather abruptly, as Katherine rose to bid her good- 
bye. “ She is an interesting, naughty little creature, small 
for her age, but in some ways precocious. 1 am quite fond of 
her; partly, I suppose, because she likes me. There is some- 
thing familiar to me in her face, yet I can not say she actually 
resembles any one.” 

“I should like to see her,” returned Katherine; and soon 
after she left her friend, relieved and calmed by feeling that 
the explanation was over. 

“ Well, my dear,” cried Mrs. Needham, when they met at J 
dinner, “ I have a great piece of news for you. Mr. Erring- 
ton is to be the new editor of 4 The Cycle 9 — a capital thing for 
him! and that accounts for the announcement of the marriage j 
beiug held back; just to let people get accustomed to the first 
start. It shows what Bradley thinks of him. It is really a 
grand triumph to get such an aj)pointment after so short an - 
apprenticeship.” 

“ I am glad of it, very glad,” returned Katherine, thought- 
fully. “ 1 suppose he is considered very clever?” 

“ A first-rate man, quite first-rate, for all serious, tough 
subjects. I think, dear, if I could run down on Saturday week 
till Monday it would be an immense refreshment;” and Mrs. 
Needham wandered off into the discussion of a variety of 
schemes. 

On the Saturday following, Katherine and her faithful 
chaperon set out for their holiday, with mutual satisfaction 
and a hope that they had left their troubles behind them. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

RECONCILIATION*. 

The change to Sandbourne did Katherine good. She grew 
calmer, more resigned, though still profoundly sad. The 


A CROOKED PATH. 


377 


sense of having been brought in touch with one of the most 
cruel problems of society affected her deeply, and the contrast 
between the present and the past of barely a year ago, when 
she had the boys with her, forced her to review her mental 
condition since the great change in her fortunes wrought by 
her own act. 

She had ample time for thought. Miss Payne was suffering 
from touches of rheumatism, which made long walks impossi- 
ble, so Katherine wandered about alone. 

The weather was bright, but although it was the beginning 
of May, not warm enough to sit among the rocks at the point. 
Katherine, however, often walked to and fro, recalling De 
Burgh's looks and tones the day he had opened his heart to 
her there. He was not a bad fellow — no, far from it; indeed, 
she knew that if her heart had not been filled with Errington 
she could have loved De Burgh. How was it that a man of 
feeling, of so-called honor, with a certain degree of discrimina- 
tion between right and wrong, could have broken the moral 
law, and been as callous as he had shown himself? 

There was no use in thinking about it. It was beyond her 
comprehension. All she hoped was that time might efface the 
cruel lines which sorrow and remorse had cut deep into Kachel's 
heart. 

With Miss Payne Katherine was cheerful and companiona- 
ble. They spoke much of Bertie. His decision to take orders 
would have given his sister unqualified satisfaction had he also 
sought preferment in England. 4 4 A clergyman's position is 
excellent," she said, confidentially, as they sat together in the 
drawing-room window one blustery afternoon, when Katherine 
was not tempted to go out. 44 Bertie is just the stuff to make 
a popular preacher of, and so long as he is properly ordained, 
I don't care how much he preaches, but I don't like him to be 
classed with panting, roaring vagabonds. Then, you see, 
there are no men who have such opportunities as clergymen 
of picking up well-dowered wives. 1 believe women are ready 
to propose themselves rather than not catch what some of them 
are pleased to term a 4 priest.' It's a weakness I never could 
understand. What induces him to run off among the heathen? 
Can't he find heathen enough at home? If he goes into those 
outlandish places I shall never see him again, and, between 
you and me, he is the only creature I care for. He thinks he 
is inspired by the love of God, but / know he is driven by the 
love of you." 

4< Of me. Miss Payne!" exclaimed Katherine, startled and 
greatly pained. 


378 


A CROOKED PATH. 


“ Yes, you ; and I wish you could see your way to many 
him. It would be no great match for either of you, but he 
would be another and a happier man; as for you, your rejec- 
tion of Lord De Burgh (I suppose you did refuse him) shows 
you do not care for riches.” 

“ But, Miss Payne, I have no right to think your brother 
ever wished to marry me.” 

“ Then you must be very dull. I wonder he has not writ- 
ten before. Oh! here is the postman.” 

Katherine stepped through the window and took the letters 
from him. 46 Only one for you, and two for me,” she said, 
returning. “One, I see, isjrom Ada.” Opening it she read 
as follows: 

“ Dearest Katherine, — I write in great anxiety and sur- 
prise, as I see among the fashionable intelligence of the 6 Morn- 
ing Post ' that Lord De Burgh is on the point of leaving Eng- 
land for a tour of the Ural Mountains (of all places!), and will 
probably be absent for several months. Can this be true? 
and if so, what is the reason of it? Is it possible that you have 
been so cruel, so insane, so wicked, as to fly in the face of 
Providence and refuse him? You should remember your own 
poverty-stricken existence, and think of my boys. Such a 
marriage with a man of JDe Burgh's rank and fortune w-ould 
be the making of them. I have hidden away the paper, for 
if the colonel saw it it would drive him frantic. Do write, 
and let me mediate between you and De Burgh, if you are so 
mad as to have quarreled with him. I am feeling quite ill 
with all this excitement and worry. 1 don't think many 
women have been so sorely tried as myself. 

“ Ever yours, 

“ Ada Ormonde.” 

Having glanced through this composition, she handed it, 
with a smile, to Miss Payne, and opened the other letter, vdaich 
was from Rachel. 

This was very short and very mysterious. 

“ I have been introduced to your relative, Mr. George Lid- 
dell ” (she wrote), “ by his daughter. We have had a conver- 
sation respecting you and other matters. I can not go into 
this now. I only write to say that Mr. Liddell is going down 
to see you to-morrow or next day, and I earnestly trust you 
may be reconciled. 

“ I am, always, your devoted 

“ Rachel.” 


w 


A CROOKED PATH. 


379 


“This is very extraordinary/* cried Katherine, when she 
had read it aloud. * 6 What can she mean by sending him 
down here? 1 rather dread seeing him.'* 

“Nonsense!** returned Miss Payne, sternly. “If that 
dress-making friend of yours brings about a reconciliation be- 
tween you and your very wrong-headed' cousin, she will do a 
good deal. I anticipate some important results from this in- 
terview. You must see Mr. Liddell alone.** 

“ I suppose so. I am sure I hope lie will not snap my head 


“ You are not the sort of a girl to allow people to snap your 
head off. But I am immensely puzzled to imagine what Miss 
Trant can have said or done to send this bushranger down 
here. How did Mr. Liddell come to know her?** 

“ I can only suppose that this little girl, to whom I believe 
he is devoted, brought him. to Kachel’s to get a dress tried 
on or to choose one.** 

“ It is very odd,** observed Miss Payne, thoughtfully. “ My 
letter,** she went on, after a moment’s pause, “is from my 
new tenant. He wants some additional furniture, which is 
just nonsense. He has as much as is good for him. 1*11 write 
and say I shall be in town on Monday, and call at Wilton 
Street to discuss matters.** 

“ Are you going to town on Monday?** 

“ Yes; I made up my mind when I read this,** tapping the 
letter. “ 1 suppose you don’t object to be left alone? and 
there is the chance of Mrs. Needham coming down. Probably 
she will stay over Monday.** 

“ I fear that is not very likely.** 

No more was said on the subject then, but Katherine could 
not get her mind free from the idea of George Liddell’s antici- 
pated visit. She was quite willing to make friends with him, 
though his ungenerous and unreasonable conduct toward her- 
self had impressed her most unfavorably. 

The day passed over, however, without any visitor, nor was 
it until the following afternoon that Katherine was startled, 
in spite of her preparation, by the announcement that a gen- 
tleman wished to see Miss Liddell. 

“ 1*11 go/* exclaimed Miss Payne, gathering up her knitting 
and a book, and vanishing swiftly, in spite of rheumatic diffi- 
culties. 

In another moment George Liddell stood before his dis- 
possessed kinswoman — a tall, gaunt figure, with grizzled hair 
and sunken eyes. He took the hand she offered in silence, and 
then exclaimed abruptly, “ You knew I was coming?** 


380 


A CROOKED PATH. 


tf ‘ Yes; Rachel Trant told me. Will you not sit down?” 

He drew a chair beside her work-table, and, after looking 
at her for a minute, exclaimed, in harsh tones which yet showed 
emotion, “ You are a good woman.” 

“ How have you found it out?” asked Katherine, smiling. 

“ 1 will answer by a long, cruel story,” he returned, with a 
sigh — “ a story I would tell to none but you. Again he paused, 
looking down as if collecting his thoughts, while the brown, 
bony, sinewy hand he laid on the table was tightly clinched. 

“ You knew my father,” lie began suddenly, raising his 
dark, suspicious eyes to hers, “ and therefore can understand 
what an exacting tyrant he could be to those who were in his 
power. As a mere child I feared him and shrunk from him. 
My earliest recollection was of my mother's care in keeping 
me from him. He was not violent to her; I don't suppose he 
ever struck her; but he treated her with cold contempt; why, 
1 never understood, except that she cost him money and 
brought him none. I won't unman myself by describing what 
her life was, or how passionately I loved her. We clung to 
each other as desolate, persecuted creatures only do. He 
grudged us the food we eat, the clothes — rather the rags — we 
wore. One day, playing in Regent's Park, I fell into the 
canal, and was nearly drowned. A gentleman went in after 
me and saved me. He took me home; he gave me to my 
mother; he often met us after; he gave me treats and money. 
I can't dwell on this time. He won my mother's love, 
chiefly through me. He was going away to the New World. 
He persuaded her to leave her wretched home, to take me. 
We escaped. I shall never forget the joy of those few days. 
Then my father (as we might have known he would) put out 
his torturing hand and seized me. My mother had hoped that 
his miserly nature would have disposed him to let me go, if he 
could thereby escape the cost of my maintenance. But re- 
venge was too sweet to be foregone. 1 was dragged away. He 
did not want her back. He hoped her lover would desert her 
after awhile, and so accomplish her punishment; but he was 
true. No; I can never forget my mother's agony when 1 was 
torn from her.” He rose and walked to the window, and re- 
turned. “ The hideous picture had grown faint,” he said, 
“ but, as I speak, it grows clear and black. You can imagine 
my life after this! It was well calculated to turn a moody, 
passionate boy into a devil. I was nearly eleven when I lost 
my mother, and I never heard of her or from her after; yet 1 
never doubted that she loved me, and tried to communicate 
with me, but my father's infernal spite kept us apart. At 


A CROOKED PATH. 


381 


sixteen I ran away. Your father was friendly to me, and tried 
to persuade me against what he called ‘ rashness/ but I always 
fancied he might have helped my mother, backed her up 
more, and I did not heed him. I went through a rough train- 
ing, as you may suppose, and never saw my father's face 
again." 

“ I can imagine that he could be terrible," murmured 
Katherine. “I was dreadfully afraid of him; but I did not 
know he had been so cruel." 

George Liddell did not seem to hear her; he was lost in 
thought. “You wonder, I dare say, why I tell you this long 
story," he resumed. “ You will see what it leads up to pres- 
ently. " 

“ I am greatly interested," returned Katherine. 

“ You will be more so. From what I told Newton and 
yourself you know enough of my career in Australia; but you 
do not know that 1 married a sweet, delicate woman, who, 
after the birth of our little Marie, fell into bad health. If 1 
could have taken her away for a long voyage it might have 
saved her; but I was just in full swing making my pile, and 
I could not tear myself away. That must have been about 
the time my father died. Had I known I was his heir I should 
have sent my wife home; but, fool that I was, I was too 
wrapped up making money (for the tide had just turned, and 
1 was floating to fortune), to see that she was slipping from 
me. I never dreamed my father would die intestate. I al- 
ways thought he would leave everything to Errington, because 
he knew how successfully his old chum had scraped money to- 
gether, and thought he would take care of his precious gold. 
It was well for me he destroyed his will." 7 

Katherine felt her cheeks glow, but she did not speak. 

“ Well, I felt fuiious to think you had been enjoying my 
money when I did not even know my father was dead; but I 
have changed." 

“Why?" asked Katherine, who could not imagine what 
was his motive for telling her his history. 

“You shall hear; you know I placed my little Marie at 
school. The school-mistress employed a dress-maker, to whom 
the child took a fancy. She insisted on taking me to see her, 
and to choose some fal-lals." He stopped again, his mouth 
twitched, his fingers played with his watch-chain. “ When 
the young woman came into the room," he resumed, “I 
thought I should have dropped; she was the living image of 
my poor mother, only younger. I could not speak for a min- 
ute. At last, when the child had kissed her and chatted a bit. 


382 


A CROOKED PATH. 


I managed to ask if I might come back and speak to her alone, 
as she was so like a lady I once knew that 1 wanted to put a 
few questions to her. She seemed a little disturbed, but told 
me I might come in the evening. 1 went. 1 asked about her 
parentage. She knew very little, save that she had been born 
in South America. She offered, however, to show me her 
mother’s picture, and when she brought it I not only saw it 
was my mother’s likeness, but a picture I knew well; her 
initials were on the case, R. L. Then I told her everything. 
I proved to her that I was her half-brother. How bitterly she 
cried when I described a little brooch with my hair in it, which 
Rachel still keeps. She has seen our mother kiss it and weep 
over it. My heart went out to her; she is second now only to 
my child. Then, Katherine, she told me her own sad story, 
and the part you played in it; how you saved her, and gave 
her hope and strength.' Give me your hand! I’ll never for- 
get this service. It binds me more — a hundred-fold more — 
than if you had done it for myself. But neither entreaties nor 
reproaches could induce her to tell me the name of the villain 
who — Has she told you?” he interrupted himself to ask 
sternly. 

44 She never named his name to me,” cried Katherine. 44 It 
is cruel to ask her, and of what possible advantage would the 
knowledge — Any inquiry, any disturbance, would only 
punish her.” 

Liddell started up, and walked to and fro hastily. 44 That’s 
true,” he exclaimed. 44 But I wish 1 had my hand on his 
throat.” 

46 That is natural; but you must think of Rachel. She has 
suffered so much.” 

44 She has,” said George Liddell, throwing himself into his 
chair again. 44 But you don’t know the sort of pain and sweet- 
ness it is to talk of my poor mother to her daughter. It makes 
a different and a better man of me. Rachel is a strong wom- 
an,” he added, after a moment’s thought. 44 She wishes our 
relationship to be kept secret. It is no credit to any one, she 
says, and might be injurious to little Marie. We can be 
friends, and she need never want a few hundreds to help her 
on in her business. It seems that, to please his people, her 
father, on returning to England, only used his second name, 
which I never knew. It is a sorrowful tale for you to listen 
to — you are white and trembling, my girl,” he added, with 
sudden familiarity. 44 But I haven’t done yet. You have laid 
me under obligations 1 can never repay. 1 could not offer a 
woman like you money, but I will pay you in kind. You 


A CROOKED PATH. 


383 


have saved my dear sister; I will provide for the nephews that 
are dear to you. I have already seen Newton and my own 
solicitor, and laid my propositions before them. 1 don't pre- 
tend to munificence, for, besides, I shall not forget either you 
or them in my will. But they shall have means for a right 
good education and a good start in life. Now 1 want you to 
forgive my brutality when we first met. And more, I want 
you to be my daughter's friend." He grasped her hand. 

Katherine's eyes had already brimmed over. “ Forgive 
you!" she repeated. “I am quite ready to forgive. 3 was 
vexed, of course, that you should be unreasonably prejudiced 
against me. But 1 am deeply grateful for your generosity to 
the boys. If you knew the joy, the relief, you have given me, 
it would, 1 am sure, gladden you. But let us try to make 
Rachel happy too." 

“ She is happiest in her own way. Work is the only cure 
for ills like hers," interrupted Liddell. “ Time will do won- 
ders, and her wish to keep our relationship secret is wise." 
There was a pause. Then Liddell, looking steadily at Kath- 
erine, exclaimed : “ You are a real, true, good-hearted woman. 
The world would be a better place if there were a few more 
like you in it." He then passed on to his plans for the fut- 
ure, his projects for his daughter's education, opening his 
mind with a degree of confidence which amazed Katherine, 
considering that a day before they were enemies. 

Presently he ceased to speak, and after a moment’s thought, 
stood up. 

“ Now I have said my say, and I must go," he exclaimed. 
“ I only came to explain myself to you, for the less of such a 
story committed to paper the better. I am due in town to- 
morrow morning. Write to Rachel, and come and see her as 
soon as you can. I wish," he added, with a searching glance, 
“ that I had a woman like you to regulate matters, and take 
care of my little Marie; then I could keep her with me." 

“ She is far better at school," returned Katherine, a little 
startled by this suggestive speech. “ But will you not have 
some luncheon before you go?" 

“No, thank you; I had some before coming on here. 1 
need very little food, and scarcely anything gives me pleasure. 
But I like you, my cousin, and I want your friendship for the 
child. " 

“ She shall have it, I promise." 

After a few more words George Liddell bade her good-bye. 
She stood a few minutes in deep thought before going to tell 
her good news to Miss Payne, reflecting that she must not be- 


384 


A CROOKED PATH. 


tray the real motive of his change toward herself. The less 
she said the better. While she thought, Miss Payne came in, 
looking unusually eager. 44 Wouldn’t he stay and have a bit 
to eat?” she exclaimed. “I saw him going out of the gate 
from my room.” 

44 No; he is in a burry to get back to town. Oh, my dear 
Miss Payne, he came down to make his peace with me, and he 
is going to provide for the boys!” 

44 Why, what has happened to him? I can hardly believe 
my ears.” 

U I am sure I could hardly believe mine! I suppose as he 
grew accustomed to feel that everything was in his hands, and 
that 1 had given him no trouble, he saw that he had been un- 
necessarily severe. Then his little girl took him to Rachel 
Trant’s, and they evidently spoke of me; probably she gave a 
highly colored description of my goodness; Snd being an im- 
pulsive man, he said he would come and see me. Whereupon 
she wrote to warn me.” 

44 That’s all possible. But somehow I feel there is more in 
it than I quite understand.” 

44 1 am sure 1 do not care to understand the wherefore, if 
only my cousin carries out his good intentions as regards Ois 
and Charlie. ” 

44 Just so; that is the main point. If he does, what a bur- 
den will be lifted off your shoulders!” 

4 4 And what a change in the boys* fortunes!” returned 
Katherine, adding, after a short pause; 44 1 think 1 will go to 
town with you on Monday, and pay them a visit, while you 
arrange your affairs with your tenant. Mrs. Needham will 
put me up for a night or two.” 

In truth Katherine longed to see and talk with Rachel, to 
discuss the curious turn in her changeful fortunes, and build 
up pleasant palaces in the airy realms of the future. 

The following day brought her a letter from De Burgh. It 
was dated from Paris, and told her of his intention to be ab- 
sent from England for some time; he pleaded earnestly for 
pardon, with a certain eloquence, and repeated the arguments 
he had previously urged, evidently thinking that his punish- 
ment was greatly disproportioned to his offense. 

Katherine was greatly moved by this epistle; she could not 
help being sorry for him, though she hoped not to meet him 
again. The association of ideas was too painful. She was 
ashamed, too, to remember how near she had come to marry- 
ing him, in a sort of despair of the future. 

She answered this letter at once, frankly and kindly, setting 


A CROOKED PATH. 


385 


forth the unalterable nature of her decision, and begging him 
not to put her to unnecessary pain by trying to renew their 
acquaintance at any future time. 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

THE END. 

The project of going to town, however, was not carried 
out. Miss Payne caught a severe cold, owing to the unusual 
circumstance of having forgotten her umbrella, and in conse- 
quence of getting wet through by a sudden shower. 

Instead, therefore, of speeding Loud on ward on Monday, 
Miss Payne spent the weary hours in bed, with a racking head- 
ache, and Katherine in close attendance. 

Next day, however, she was considerably better, and even 
talked of coming down-stairs in the evening, when the house 
was shut up. She insisted on sending her kind nurse out for 
air and exercise, as she was looking pallid and heavy-eyed; nor 
was Katherine reluctant to go, for she enjoyed being alone to 
meditate on the curious interweaving of fates, warp and woof, 
which had made Rachel the means of reconciliation between 
George Liddell and herself. She ought now to take up her 
life again with courage and energy. The boys provided for, 
she had nothing to fear, while if the future held out no brill- 
iant prospect of personal happiness, much quiet content proba- 
bly lay in the humble sufficiency which was now hers. The 
interest she would take in the careers of Cis and Charlie would 
renew her youth, and keep her in touch with active life, while, 
as the impression of her various troubles wore away under the 
swift-flowing stream of time, she would feel more and more 
the restful excellence of peace. It was not a bad outlook, yet 
Katherine felt sad as she contemplated it. Finding her self- 
commune less cheering than she anticipated, she turned her 
steps homeward, and entered the house through the window 
of the drawing- room, which opened on a rustic veranda. 
Coming from strong sunlight into comparative darkness, she 
took off her hat, and pushed back the hair from her brow, be- 
fore she perceived that a gentleman had risen from the chair 
where he sat reading. 

“You see 1 have dared to take possession of the premises in 
your absence/' he said. 

“Mr. Errington!” cried Katherine, her heart suddenly 
bounding, and then beating so violently she could hardly 
speak. “ How — where, did you come from?” 

“ From London, to enjoy a brief breathing space from the 


380 


A CROOKim PATH. 


pressure of work, welcome as it generally is. 1 am sorry to 
find your friend Miss Payne is invalided. As she was not 
visible, I ventured to wait for you.” 

“ I am very glad to see you,” returned Katherine, placing 
herself on the sofa, as_far from the window as she could, for 
she felt herself changing color in a provoking way. 

“ I saw Mrs. Needham yesterday, who gave me your ad- 
dress aud sundry messages, one to the effect that she hopes to 
pay you a visit next Saturday; the rest I do not remember ac- 
curately, for she was much excited and not very distinct.” 

“ We shall be delighted to see her, she is so bright and sym- 
pathetic. What was the immediate cause of her excitement?” 

“ The marriage of Miss Bradley in about a fortnight.” 

“Indeed!” cried Katherine, thinking his way of announc- 
ing it rather odd, but never doubting it was his own marriage 
also. “ Then accept my warm congratulations. You have 
no well-wisher more sincere than myself.” 

Errington looked up surprised. “ Why do you congratu- 
late me? I certainly was of some use in bringing it about; 
but sooner or later they would certainly have married.” 

“ They? WhJ) — who is going to marry?” 

“ My old friend Major Urquhart. It is a very old attach- 
ment, but Mr. Bradley objected to his want of fortune; then, 
as Bradley’s wealth increased, Urquhart felt reluctant to come 
forward again. Accident revealed the state of the case to me. 
I went to see Urquhart, who had just returned from India, 
and was in Edinburgh. I persuaded him to return with me, 
and once the lovers met, matters swiftly arranged themselves. 
Finally, Bradley gave his consent. Now the air is resonant 
with the coming chime of wedding-bells.” 

“ I am greatly surprised,” said Katherine; and it was some 
minutes before she could speak again. Her horizon seemed 
suddenly suffused with light; she felt dizzy with a strange, de- 
lightful glow, and confused with a sense of shame at her own 
unreasoning, irrational joy. What difference could Erring- 
ton’s marriage or no marriage make to her? 

\ “1 suppose,” resumed Errington, after looking earnestly at 

her speaking face, “ that the intimacy which arose between 
Mr. Bradley and myself, in consequence of my connection 
with 6 The Cycle,’ suggested the rumor of my engagement to 
his daughter; but no such idea ever entered my head or 
Angela’s. You know, I suppose, 1 am now de facto editor of 
' The Cycle.’ It is a good appointment, and enables me to 
hope for possibilities, though I dare not say probabilities.” 


















A CROOKED PATH. 387 

“ I am sure you will be an admirable editor/* said Kath- 
erine, pulling herself together, and trying to speak lightly. 

“ Why?** asked Errington, smiling. 

“ You are just and careful, and must be a good judge of the 
subjects such a periodical treats of.** 

“Thank you.** He paused; then looking down, he con- 
tinued: “Mrs. Needham tells me you have been troubled 
about your nephews.** 

“ Yes; 1 was very much troubled, but I think they are safe 
and well now. Later I should put them to a better school, as 
I now hope to do — ** She stopped to think how she should 
best explain George Liddell’s unexpected generosity, and Er- 
rington exclaimed: 

“ These boys are a heavy charge to you; yet I suppose you 
could not bring yourself to give them up?** 

“ How could 1? Their mother can really do nothing for 
them, and it would be cruel to hand them over to Colonel Or- 
monde*s charity.** 

“ It would; you are right,** said Errington, hastily. “ Poor 
little fellows! to lose you would be too terrible a trial for 
them. ** 

Katherine raised her eyes to his; they were moist with grati- 
tude for his sympathy, and seemed to draw him magnetically 
to her; he changed his place to the sofa. Leaning one arm 
on the back; he rested his head on his hand and looked grave- 
ly down upon her. 

“ Will you forgive me if 1 ask an intrusive question? You 
know we agreed to be friends, yet our friendship does not seem 
to thrive; it is dying of starvation, because we so rarely meet; 
still, for the sake of our shadowy friendship, answer me. May 
1 put the natural construction on De Burgh’s sudden departure 
from England?** 

Katherine hesitated. She did not like to say, in so many 
words, that she had refused him. A curious, half -remorseful 
feeling made her especially considerate toward him. “ I do 
not like to speak of Lord De Burgh/* she said at length. 

“ When does he return?** 

“ I do not know; 1 know nothing of his plans.** 

“ Then you sent him empty away?** said Errington, smiling. 

“I very nearly married him!** she exclaimed, frankly. 
“ He was kind and generous, and would have been good to 
the boys. But at the last 1 could not — oh! I could not /** 

“ I am sorry for De Burgh/* said Errington, thoughtfully. 
“ But you were right. Your wisdom is more of the heart than 
the head. Do you remember that day — how vividly I remem- 


388 


A CROOKED PATH. 


ber it! — when you came to me and told me your strange story? 
It was the turning-point of my life; when I confessed I knew 
nothing of the deep, warm, tender affection that actuated you , 
you said that, for me, wisdom was from one entrance quite 
shut out.” 

“ Oh, I remember nothing clearly of that dreadful day, 
only that you were very forgiving and good,” returned Kath- 
erine, pressing her hands together to still their trembling. 

“ Well, from the moment you spoke those words, the light 
of the wisdom you meant dawned upon me, and grew stronger 
and brighter, till my whole being was flooded with the love 
your inspired. You opened a new world to me. Your voice 
was always in my ears, your eyes looking into mine.” He 
spoke in a low, earnest, but composed tone, as if he had made 
up his mind to the fullest utterance. Katherine covered her 
face with her hand, with the unconscious instinct to hide the 
emotion she felt it would express. 

“ Many things kept me silent: fear that the sight of me was 
painful to you; the dread of seeming to seek your fortune: my 
own uncertain position. Then, when all was taken from you, 
and I was, by my own act, deprived of the power to help you, 
you were -so brave and patient that profound esteem mingled 
with the strange, sweet, wild fire you had kindled. Am I so 
painfully associated in your mind that you can not give me 
something of the wealth of love stored in your heart? You 
have taught me what love is; will you not reward so apt a 
pupil?” 

“ Mr. Errington,” said Katherine, letting him take her 
cold, trembling hand, 46 is it possible you can love and trust a 
woman who has acted a lie for years as I have?” 

“ I can not help both loving and trusting you utterly,” he 
returned, holding her hand tenderly in both his own. “I be- 
lieve in your truth as I believe in the reality of the sun’s light 
and warmth, and if you can love me, I believe 1 can make you 
happy. I have but a humble lot to offer you, yet I think it 
is, it will be, a tranquil and secure one. I can help you in 
bringing up those boys. J will never quarrel with you for 
clinging to them, and will do the best I can for them. You 
know I have a creditor’s claim, and Roman law gave the 
debtor over into the hands of the creditor,” continued Erring- 
ton, growing bolder, as he felt how her hand trembled in his 
grasp. “ You must pay me by the surrender of yourself — by 
accepting a life for a life, Katherine.” 

“Ah! how can 1 answer you? If indeed you can trust and 


A CROOKED PATH. 389 

respect me, I can and will love you well,” she exclaimed, with 
the sweet frankness which always enchanted him. 

“ Will you love me with the whole unstinted love of your 
rich nature? I can not spare a grain,” said Errington, jeal- 
ously. 

“But I do love you,” murmured Katherine. “I am 
almost frightened at loving you so much.” 

Could it be the cold, composed, immovable Errington who 
strained her so closely to his heart, whose lips clung so pas- 
sionately to hers? 

“ I have a great deal to tell you,” began Katherine, when 
she had extricated herself, and recovered some composure. 
“But I must go and see poor Miss Payne; she will wonder 
what has become of me.” 

“ Tell her you are obliged to talk to me of business, and 
come back soon. I have much to consult you about, and 1 
can only stay till to-morrow evening. Do not stay away.” 
And Katherine returned very soon. 

“ Miss Payne is dreadfully puzzled,” she said, smiling and 
blushing, quivering in every vein with the strange, almost 
awful happiness which overwhelmed her. 

“ Now what have you to tell me?” asked Errington. And 
she gave him a full description of George LiddelPs visit and 
proposal to-provide for Cis and Charlie. 

Errington was too happy to heed the details much; he only 
remarked that he was glad Liddell had come to his right mind. 

“ I want you to tell Miss Payne, as soon as possible, our 
new plans. She is coming down-stairs this evening, you say. 
Let me break the news to her. I think she will give us her 
blessing. And, Katherine, my sweet Katherine, there is no 
reason to delay our marriage. You have 116 fixed home. The 
sooner you make one for yourself and me, the better. The 
idea is intoxicating. Our poverty sets us free from the tram- 
mels of conventionality. We have nothing to wait for. 

So they were married. 

Here ought to come “ Finis.” Yet real life had only begun 
for them. Were they happy? Yes; for under the wild sweet- 
ness of warmest passionate love, lay I he lasting rock of com- 
prehensive and genial companionship. Fuller knowledge 
brought deeper esteem, and the only secret Katherine kept 
from her husband was the true history of Kachel Trant. A 
severe attack of fever, brought 011 by overstudy, prevented, 
immediately after Katherine's marriage, Bertie Payne from 


390 


A CROOKED PATH. 


carrying out his missionary scheme. He was reluctantly 
obliged to put up with the East End heathen, 44 who,” as Miss 
Payne observed, 4fc were bad enough to satisfy the largest ap- 
petite for sinners.” 

There his faithful sister established herself to make a home 
for him, renouncing her comfortable West End abode, and 
finding ample interest in the pursuits she affected to treat as 
fads. 

44 Altogether, everything has turned out in the most extraor- 
dinary and unexpected manner, as Mrs. Ormonde observed to 
Mrs. Needham, whom she encountered at one of Lady Mary 
Vincent’s receptions. 44 Katherine seems quite proud to set- 
tle down in a suburban villa away at St. John’s Wood as Mrs. 
Errington, while she might have made a figure at court as 
Lady De Burgh. By the way, I see your friend Mrs. Urquhart 
was presented at the last Drawing-room.” 

44 Yes, and was one of the handsomest women there. But 
I don’t suppose Mrs. Errington ever gives a thought to diaw- 
ing-iooms or Buckingham Palace balls. You see she is, in a 
sense, always at court, for her king is always beside her,” re- 
turned Mrs. Needham, with a beaming smile. 44 Good-night, 
Mrs. Ormonde.” 


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ance of Harmachis, the Royal 
Egyptian, as set forth by His 
Own Hand. By H. Rider 


Haggard 20 

1191 On Circumstantial Evidence. 

By Florence Marryat 20 

1192 Miss Kate: or, Confessions of 

a Caretaker. By “Rita” 20 

1193 The Fog Princes. A Romance 

of the Dark Metropolis. By 
Florence Warden 20 

1194 The Search for Basil Lynd- 

hurst. By Rosa Nouchette 
Carey 30 


1197 The Autobiography of a Slan- 
der, by Edna Lyall: and 
“ Jerry.” — That Night in 
June.”— A Wrong Turning. — 
Irish Love and Marriage. By 

the “ Duchess.” 10 

1199 A False Scent. By Mrs. Alex- 


ander 10 

1201 Mehalah. A Story of the Salt 

Marshes. By S. Bariug-Gould. 20 

1202 Harvest. By John Strange 

Winter 20 

1204 The Lodge by the Sea. By 

Mrs. H. Lovett Cameron 20 

1205 A Lost Wife. By Mrs. H. Lov- 

ett Cameron 20 

1206 Derrick Vaughan — Novelist. 

By Edna Lyall 10 

1207 The Princess and the Jew. By 

I. I. Kraszewski 20 

1208 Merle’s Crusade. By Rosa Nou- 

chette Carey 20 

1209 A Troublesome Girl. By “ The 

Duchess ” 20 


A handsome catalogue containing complete and classified lists of all George 
Munro's publications will be mailed to any address on receipt of i0 cents. 

The foregoing works, contained in Thic Sicasidic Library, Pocket Edition, 
are for sale by all newsdealers, or will be sent to any address, postage free, on 
receipt of 12 cents for single numbers, and 25 cents for double numbers. 
Parties ordering by mail will please aider by numbers. Adiress 

GEORGE MUNRO, Munro’s Publishing House, 

P. O. Box 3751. 17 to 27 Vandewater Street, N. Y. 






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